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MR. WEBSTER: AT MAR3HFIELD. 




PROFILE SKETCH OF MR. WEBSTER. 






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THE PRIVATE LIFE 



OP 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



BY CHARLES LANMAN. 



He that hath the vantage-ground to do good, is an honest man.— Bacon. 



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NEW Y O R K : 
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS. 

32 9 &-. 3 3 1 P E A R I. STREET, 
K R A N K M N SQUARE. 

1852. 






t~ 'MO 



U>4 U=l 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand 
eight hundred and fiftj^-two, by 

Harper & Brothers, 

in the Clerks Office of the Disti-ict Court of the Southern District 

of New York. 



PRELIMINARY NOTE. 



The writer of this little volume was attached 
to its distinguished subject by the official tie of 
private secretary, and also by the endearing ties 
of admiration for a great intellect, and the strong- 
est attachment to a most noble Heart and the 
best of Friends. He has frequently visited Elms 
Farrti in New Hampshire, and Marshjield in Mas- 
sachusetts, as the friend and guest of their distin- 
guished proprietor; and while in their vicinity, 
it was natural that he should have had oppor- 
tunities of gathering from the older inhabitants, 
and other authentic sources, many incidents of 
personal history. These were, for the most part, 
repeated to him for his own gratification ; but, now 
*' that the mold," in the statesman's own words, 
" is beginning to gather upon the tomb" of Daniel 
Webster, the writer has deemed it his duty to pre- 
sent them to the public for their edification and 
pleasure. His fame as a patriot, a jurist, a states- 
man, an orator, and a scholar, is coextensive with 



VI PRELIMINARY NOTE. 

the civilized world, and it can not but be of es- 
sential service to the rising generation, and agree- 
able to all admirers of intellectual greatness, to 
become acquainted with some of the facts which 
tend to illustrate the every-day life and personal 
character of such a man. In the following pages 
a regular biography has by no means been attempt- 
ed ; it was only the writer's intention to narrate, 
in a simple and unpretending manner, a collection 
of authentic personal memorials, which may tend 
to embellish the extensive biographies of Webster 
which will hereafter be added to our national lit- 
erature. 

Charles Lanman. 

Washington, November, 1852, 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
9 



23 
35 

4« 
69 



BIRTH AND BOYHOOD - 

COLLEGE DAYS 

EARLY LEGAL CAREER 

ELMS FARM 

MARSHFIELD 

4TRAITS OF PERSONAL CHARACTER ^ 

MISCELLANEOUS MEMORIALS ^^^ 

171 

ILLNESS AND DEATH 

^ CONCLUDING NOTE ^^^ 

APPENDIX ^^"^ 



PRIVATE LIFE 



OF 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



BIRTH AND BOYHOOD. 

When it is remembered that Daniel Webster was con- 
sidered the greatest intellectual character of his country, 
it is a striking coincidence that he should have been born 
in the shadow, as it were, of Mount Washington, and that 
his home and death-place was not only in full view of the 
landing-place of the Pilgrim fathers, but also on the mar- 
gin of the Atlantic; as if Earth would commemorate his 
birth, History his deeds, and Ocean claim the privilege of 
floating his name to the remotest nations of the earth. 

The ancestors of Daniel Webster came originally from 
Scotland, and his father, grandfather, and great-grandfa- 
ther were named Ebenezer, and were descendants of 
Thomas Webster, who was one of the earliest settlers of 
New Hampshire. His father was a person of large and 
stalwart form, of swarthy complexion, and remarkable 
features. He was born and spent his youth upon a farm : 
served as a ranger in the famous company of Major Robert 
Rogers, and as a captain under G-eneral John Stark, dur- 

A2 



10 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

ing the Revolutionary war ; was for several years a mem- 
ber of the Legislature of New Hampshire ; and died while 
performing with honor the duties of judge of the Court of 
Common Pleas. He was not only a man of superior in- 
tellect, but was distinguished for his strong and indomi- 
table will — a characteristic which his distinguished son 
rightfully inherited. He was a Federalist in politics ; and 
it is related of him that he was once taken suddenly ill 
while passing through a village which was noted for its 
Democracy, and that, supposing that he was about to die, 
he beseeched his physician to remove him as soon as pos- 
sible out of the place, giving, as a reason for his great 
anxiety, that ''he was born a Federalist, had lived a Feder- 
alist, and could not die in any but a Federalist town." Mr. 
Webster's mother was Abigail Eastman, a lady of Welsh 
extraction, and of superior intellect. She v/as the second 
wife of her husband, and the mother of five children — two 
boys, Daniel and Ezekiel, and three daughters. 

Daniel Webster was born on the 18th day of January, 
1782, in the town of Salisbury, Merrimack county, then 
Hillsborough, New Hampshire. The site of the house is 
two and a half miles from the beautiful Merrimack River, 
and in the immediate vicinity of that where his father 
built the first log-cabin ever seen in this section of coun- 
try, and at a time when, between his residence and the 
borders of Canada, there was not a single human habita- 
tion, excepting the Indian's wigwam. The house in ques- 
tion is not now standing ; but the engraving which orna- 
ments this volume is from a drawing correctly represent- 
ing it, as it appeared only a few years ago, and is the only 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 11 

portrait of the place which ever received the approbation 
of Mr. Webster. =^ It was a good specimen of the more 
elegant farm-houses of the day, one story high, heavily 
timbered, clapboarded, with rather a pointed roof, on<> 
chimney in the centre, one front door, with a window oi 
either side, three windows at each end, four rooms on the. 
ground floor, and an addition in the rear for a kitchen. 
It fronted the south ; a picturesque well-curb and sweep 
stood near the eastern extremity, and over the whole a 
mammoth elm-tree extended its huge arms, as if to pro- 
tect the spot from sacrilege. In the rear, on a hillside, 
was a spacious barn, and a partially wooded pasture ; the 
prospect immediately in front was enlivened by a rude 
bridge, spanning a lovely little stream, and bounded by a 
lofty hill, upon which is still standing the church where 
Mr. Webster was baptized ; while in a southwesterly di- 
rection was presented a full view of the noble mountain 
called Kearsage^ which holds the same rank among its 
brother hills that Mr. Webster was acknowledged to hold 
among men. The house was the centre of a tract of one 
hundred and sixty acres of land, which still belongs to the 
Webster family. Though the birth-place itself has disap- 
peared, the waters of the well are still as pure and spark- 
ling, and the leaves of the elm as luxuriant, as when they 
quenched the thirst and delighted the eyes of the infant 
statesman, sometseventy years ago, and in their perennial 
nature are emblematic of the great name with which they 
are associated. And it was to this spot, and especially the 

♦ The very good wood-cuts inserted in this volume were executed by 
Messrs. Lossing and Barritt. 



12 PRIVATE LIFEOF 

s/ 

log-cabin, that Mr. Webster alluded, when, in a speech de- 
livered at Saratoga in 1840, he uttered the following touch- 
ing words :i'' I make to it an annual visit. I carry my 
children to it, to teach them the hardships endured by the 
generations which have gone before them. I love to dwell 
on the tender recollections, the kindred ties, the early af- 
fections, and the touching narratives and incidents, v/hich 
mingle with all I know of this primitive family abode. I 
weep to think that none of those who inhabited it are 
now living ; and if ever I am ashamed of it, or if I ever 
fail in aflectionate veneration for Jiim who reared it, and 
defended it against savage violence and destruction, cher- 
ished all the domestic virtues beneath its roof, and, tlii'ough 
the fire and blood of a seven years' Revolutionary war, 
shrunk from no danger, no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his 
country, and to raise his children to a better condition 
than his own, may my name, and the name of my poster- 
ity, be blotted forever from the memory of mankind."; 

Mr. Webster was first taught the letters of the alphabet 
by his mother, and, because of his feebleness when a child, 
was ever treated by her with partial kindness. From her 
lips, also, were first received the vital truths of the Bible, 
and the first copy of the sacred Volume which he ever 
owned was presented to him by his mother. Another 
tribute, and a most exalted one, is this fact, to the faith- 
fulness of woman. The one in question is remembered, 
and always spoken of in New Hampshire, as a woman not 
only of superior intellect, but of the warmest affections, 
and remarkably beautiful. She lived for her husband and 
cbildron, never thinkincr of herself, and was venerated bv 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 18 

all who knew her ; and it is said that, when her son Dan- 
iel had attained his tenth year, she prophesied that he 
would become eminent ; and when she died, that son was 
indeed a member of Congress. 

The first school-house irito which Mr. Webster ever en- 
tered was built of logs, and not a vestige of it now re- 
mains, though the spot is marked by a still flourishing 
butternut- tree. It was located about half a mile from his 
father's house, and, as he only attended during the win- 
ter, it was pleasant to the writer to stand upon this now 
classic ground, and imagine the boy Daniel tramping on 
his way to school, carrying in one hand a little tin pail 
with his dinner, and in the other his spelling-book. The 
men who had the honor of first teaching in a public man- 
ner this favorite of fortune were Thomas Chase and James 
Tappan. The latter person is still living, at an advanced 
age, in Gloucester, Massachusetts. It may be well sup- 
posed that this veteran schoolmaster feels a deep affection 
and a great pride in his famous pupil. In 1851, he ad- 
dressed a letter to Mr. Webster about the times of old, 
which drew forth the following letter, containing a bank- 
bill for fifty dollars, more, probably, than the old gentle- 
man ever received for a winter's teaching in " New Salis- 
bury." 

"Washington, February 26th, 1851. 
" Master Tappan, 
" I thank you for your letter, and am rejoiced to know 
that you are among the living. I remember you perfect- 
ly well as a teacher of my infant years. I suppose my 
mother must have taught me to read very early, as I have 



14 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

never been able to recollect the time when I could not 
read the Bible. I think Master Chase was my earliest 
schoolmaster, probably when I was three or four years old. 
Then came Master Tappan. You boarded at our house, 
and sometimes, I think, in the family of Mr. Benjamin 
Sanborn, our neighbor, the lame man. Most of those 
whom you knew in ' New Salisbury' have gone to their 
graves. Mr. John Sanborn, the son of Benjamin, is yet 
living, and is about your age. Mr. John Colby, who mar- 
ried my eldest sister, Susannah, is also living. On the 
' North Road' is Mr. Benjamin Pettingil. I think of none 
else among the living whom you would probably remem- 
ber. You have, indeed, lived a checkered life. ^ I hope 
you have been able to bear prosperity with meekness, and 
adversity with patience. ' These things are all ordered for 
us far better than we could order them for ourselves. We 
may pray for our daily bread ; we may pray for the for- 
giveness of sins ; we may pray to be kept from tempta- 
tion, and that the kingdom of Grod may come, in us, and 
in all men, and his will every where be done. Beyond 
this we hardly know for what good to supplicate the Di- 
vine mercy. Our heavenly Father knoweth what we have 
need of better than we know ourselves, and we are sure 
that his eye and his loving-kindness are upon us and 
around us every moment. 

"I thank you again, my good old schoolmaster, for your 
kind letter, which has awakened many sleeping recollec- 
tions ; and, with all good wishes, I remain, your friend 
and pupil, Daniel Webster. 

"Mr. James Tappan." 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 15 

In the month of July last a correspondent of the " Bos- 
ton Transcript" wrote from Grloucester as follows : " Con- 
siderable interest has been excited here by the intelligence 
of the threatened difficulty with G-reat Britain, in conse- 
quence of the measures that have been taken by that 
government to exclude our fishermen from certain valua- 
ble fishing-grounds on the northeastern coast. G-loucester 
is largely interested in this question. Of some eighty 
thousand barrels of mackerel which she brings in, upward 
of sixty thousand are taken from grounds from which they 
are now to be excluded. Mr. Webster is confidently looked 
to in this juncture to ward off this threatened calamity 
from a most deserving and enterprising class of our fellow- 
citizens. 

" The mention of Mr. Webster reminds me that I met 
on the piazza of the Pavilion last evening the venerable 
Mr. Tappan," now a resident of this town, and who was one 
of the earliest instructors of Daniel Webster and his broth- 
er Bzekiel. Master Tappan, as he is called, is now in his 
eighty-sixth year, somewhat infirm, but with his intellect- 
ual faculties bright and vivid, especially on the subject of 
his old pupil, whom he esteems the foremost man of his 
times, and in whose fame he takes a justifiable pride. 

" ' Daniel was always the brightest boy in the school,' 
said Master Tappan, ' and Ezekiel the next ; but Daniel 
was much quicker at his studies than his brother. He 
would learn more in five minutes than another boy in five 
hours. One Saturday, I remember, I held up a handsome 
new jack-knife to the scholars, and said, the boy who would 
commit to memory the greatest number of verses in the 



16 PRIVATELIFEOF 

Bible by Monday morning should have it. Many of the 
boys did well ; but when it came to Daniel's turn to re- 
cite, I found that he had committed so much that, after 
hearing him repeat some sixty' or seventy verses, I was 
obliged to give up, he telling me that there were several 
chapters yet that he had learned. Daniel got that jack- 
knife. Ah I sir, he was remarkable even as a boy ; and I 
told his father he would do (jrod's work injustice if he did 
not send both Daniel and Ezekiel to college. The old 
man said he couldn't well afford it; but I told him he 
must, and he finally did. And didn't they both justify 
my good opinion? Well, gentlemen, I am an old man, 
and too much given to talk, perhaps. AVell, good-byl 
Beautiful place this ! Beautiful sea-view — and the air, 
how soft and refreshing ! But I must leave it all soon, 
gentlemen. I have been suffering from the asthma for 
fifteen years, and it is now worse than ever. Grod is call- 
ing us all home — some sooner, some later — for me it must 
needs be soon. But, good-by ! Enjoy yourselves in this 
delightful air. Grood-by !' 

" And the old gentleman tottered away, after a mono- 
logue almost verbatim such as I have recorded. It seems 
to be the one sunny spot in his old age to talk of his old 
pupil, and to expatiate on his greatness as a statesman, 
as an orator, and as a lawyer. Master Tappan alluded to 
the news in regard to the threatened difficulty with G-reat 
Britain on account of the northeastern fisheries, but con- 
fidently remarked, ' Daniel will settle it all, so that we 
.shall hold our own, and have no trouble. They couldn't 
get along at all at Washington without Daniel. The 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



17 



country won't get into a scrape, while it has the benefit 
of his pilotage, be sure of that.' " 

The above was read to Mr. Webster, and in less than an 
hour afterward the original of the following letter, which 
contained a remittance of twenty dollars, was on its way 
to gladden the heart of the old schoolmaster : 

" Boston, July 20th, 1852. 

I 

" Master Tappan, 
" I learn with much pleasure, through the public press, 
that you continue to enjoy life, with mental faculties 
bright and vivid, although you have arrived at a very ad- 
vanced age, and are somewhat infirm. I came to-day 
from the very spot in which you taught me ;* and to me 
a most delightfal spot it is. The river and the hills are 
as beautiful as ever, but the graves of my father and 
mother, and brothers and sisters, and early friends, gave 
it to me something of the appearance of a city of the dead. 
But let me not repine. You have lived long, and my life 
is already not short, and we have both much to be thank- 
ful for. Two or three persons are yet living, who, like 
myself, were brought up sub tua ferula. They remem- 
ber ' Master Tappan.' 

"And now, my good old master, receive a renewed 
tribute of affectionate regard from your grateful pupil, 
with his wishes and prayers for your happiness in all that 
remains to you in this life, and more especially for your 
participation hereafter in the durable riches of righteous- 
ness. / Daniel Webster." 
* This was Mr. Webster's last visit to his birth-place. 



18 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

Near the site of the house where Mr. Webster was born, 
and m the bed of a little brook, are the remains of an old 
mill, which once stood in a dark glen, and was there sur- 
rounded with a majestic forest which covered the neigh- 
boring hills. The mill was a source of income to his 
father, and he kept it in operation till near the close of 
his life. To that mill, Daniel, though a small boy, went 
daily, when not in school, to assist his father in sawing 
boards. He was apt in learning any thing useful, and 
soon became so expert in doing every thing required, that 
his services as an assistant were valuable. And often- 
times, after setting the saw and hoisting the gate, and 
while the saw was passing through the log, which occu- 
pied some ten minutes for each board, he was usually 
seen reading attentively the books in the way of biogra- 
phy and history, which he was permitted to take from the 
house. 

There, in that old saw-mill, surrounded by forests, in 
the midst of the noise which such a mill made, and this, 
too, without neglecjiing his task, he made himself familiar 
with the most remarkable events recorded by the pen of 
history, and with the lives and characters of the most cel- 
ebrated persons of antiquity. What he read there has 
never been forgotten. So tenacious was his memory, that 
he has been able, within the last few years, to recite long 
narratives out of the old books upon which he then feasted, 
and which he had not subsequently perused. The soli- 
tude of the scene, the absence of every thing to divert his 
attention, the simplicity of his occupation, the taciturn 
and thoughtful manner of his father, all favored the pro- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 19 

cess of transplanting every great idea found in those books 
to his own fresh, fruitful, and vigorous mind. Few other 
scenes of his boyhood are as interesting as the site of this 

old mill. 

At this period of his life it was, too, that his eyes first 
fell upon the Constitution of the United States, of which he 
subsequently became the chief expounder and defender. 
And what i^ truly remarkable, is the fact that this par- 
ticular copy was printed upon an imported cotton pocket 
handkerchief, according to a fashion of the time, which 
he chanced to stumble upon in a country store, and for 
which he paid, out of his own pocket, all the money he 
had, twenty-five cents. The evening of the day on which 
he obtained the document was wholly devoted to its close 
and attentive perusal, while seated before the fire, and by 
' the side of his father and mother. What dreamer, on that 
night, in the wildest flights of his imagination, could have 
seen the result of that accident, or marked out the future 
career of that New Hampshire boy ? 

But with all this earnestness of character, there was 
closely connected a frolicsome disposition, which, for its 
smartness as well as harmlessness, it is pleasant to con- 
template. Of the many anecdotes which tend to illustrate 
his love of fun, the following are worth mentioning : 

Daniel and his brother Ezekiel, when boys, were really 
devoted to the pursuits of agriculture, but the following 
story is current in the vicinity of their birth-place. Their 
father had given them directions to perform a specific 
labor during his temporary absence from home, but on his 
return at night, he found the labor unperformed, and, with 




20 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

a frown upon his face, questioned the boys in regard to 
their idleness. ''"What have you been doing, Ezekiel?" 
said the father. "Nothing, su'," v^as the reply. "Well, 
Daniel, what have you been doing?" ^''Helping Zeke^ 

On another occasion, Daniel was put to mowing. He 
made bad work of it. His scythe was sometimes in the 
ground, and sometimes over the tops of all the grass. He 
complained to his father that his scythe was not hung 
right. Various attempts were made to hang it better, but 
with no success. His father told him, at length, he might 
hang it to suit himself ; and he therefore hung it upon a 
tree, and said, " There, that's just right." His father 
laughed, and told him to let it hang there. 

When Daniel and Ezekiel were boys together, they had 
frequent literary disputes, and on one occasion, after they 
had retired to bed, they entered into a squabble about a 
certain passage in one of their school-books, and having 
risen to examine some of the authorities in their posses- 
sion, they set their bed-clothes on fire and nearly burned 
up their father's dwelling. On being questioned the next 
morning in regard to the accident, Daniel remarked, " That 
they wei'e in pursuit of light, but got more than they 
wanted^ 

The father of these brothers used to speak of them with 
great kindness, but dwelt principally upon the qualifica- 
tions of Ezekiel ; and when questioned by a friend as to 
his reasons for so doing, he replied, " Ezekiel is a bashful 
boy, who needs a word to be said of him ; but Daniel, I 
warrant you, will take care of himself." 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 21 



V 



The father was very strict in all religious observances, 
and required, among other things, that his sons should go 
every Sunday to church, though the distance was about 
four miles. Daniel complained of the hardship, for he 
must needs walk all the way. His father said to him, 

" I see Deacon True's boys there every Sunday regu- 
larly, and have never heard of their complaining." 

"Ah! yes," replied Daniel; "the deacon's boys live 
half the way there, and of course have only half as far to 
walk." 

" Well," said his father, " you may get up in the morn- 
ing, dress yourself, and run up to Deacon True's, and go 
with them ; then you will have no further to walk than 
they do." 

The logic of his father was conclusive, for he never con- 
sidered it a hardship to run up to Deacon True's to play 
with the boys, and that the hardship, if any, lay beyond 
the deacon's residence. On every future pleasant Sab- 
bath, therefore, Daniel was found at church, notwithstand- 
ing the distance. 

And now we have an anecdote to record, going to show 
tne existence of an innate eloquence. When he was about 
seven years of age, his father kept a house of public enter- 
tainment, where the teamsters, who traveled on the road, 
were in the habit of obtaining a dinner, and feeding their 
horses ; and it is said that the incipient orator and states- 
man frequently entertained his father's guests by reading 
aloud some of the Psalms of David, to the great delight 
of his rustic listeners. Indeed, it was customary for the 
teamsters to remark, as they pulled up their horses before 



22 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

the Webster tavern, '' Come, let's go in and hear a Psahii 
from Dan Webster! " Even at that time, his voice was 
deep, rich, and musical. The identical dwelling alluded 
to above is still standing, and it was only a few months 
ago, when Mr. Webster, bending under the weight of years 
and a painful illness, sat with the writer upon its little 
porch, and descanted with streaming eyes upon the vari- 
ous events associated with his "boyhood's home." 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 23 



COLLEOE DAYS. 

Mr. Webster's advantages of early education were ex- 
ceedingly slender, for he worked on the farm in summer, 
and went to school only in the winter. The principal dis- 
trict school that he attended was three miles from his fa- 
ther's residence, and his pathway thither was often through 
deep snows. WJien fourteen years old, he spent a few 
months at Phillips' Academy, Exeter, enjoying the tuition 
and kindly counsels of Dr. Benjamin Abbot. He master- 
ed the principles and philosophy of the English grammar 
in less than four months, when he immediately commenced 
the study of the Latin language, and his first lessons there- 
in were recited to the late Joseph Stevens Buckminster, 
who was at that time a tutor in the academy. Here he 
was first called upon to '^ speak in public on the stage," 
and the effort was a failure ; for the moment he began he 
became embarrassed, and burst into tears. He could re- 
peat psalms to a few teamsters at the age of seven, but 
could not address an assembly when twice that age. His 
antipathy to public declamation was insurmountable ; and 
in bearing testimony to this fact, he once uttered the fol- 
lowing words: " I believe I made tolerable progress in/ 
most branches which I attended to while in this school, 
but there was one thing I could not do — I could not make 



/ 



24 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

a declamation ; I could not speak before the school. The 
kind and excellent Buckminster sought especially to per- 
suade me to perform the exercise of declamation, like other 
boys, but I could not do it. Many a piece did I commit 
to memory, and recite and rehearse in my own room, over 
and over again ; yet, when the day came when the school 
collected to hear the declamations, when mv name was 
called, and I saw all eyes turned to my seat, I could not 
raise myself from it. Sometimes the instructors frowned ; 
sometimes they smiled. Mr. Buckminster always pressed 
and entreated, most winningly, that I would venture, ven- 
ture only once. But I never could command sufficient 
resolution." 

A few days after Mr. "Webster had entered Exeter acad- 
emy, he returned to his boarding-house one evening in a 
very desponding mood, and told his friends there that the 
city boys in the academy were constantly laughing at him, 
because he was at the foot of his class, and had come from 
the back- woods. His friends endeavored to cheer him by 
explaining the regulations of the school, and telling him 
that the boys would soon get tired of their unhandsome 
conduct, and that he ought to show^ himself above their 
foolishness. Mr. Nicholas Emerey, who was then an as- 
sistant tutor in the academy, was also made acquainted 
with young Webster's troubles, and, as he had the man- 
agement of the second or lower class, he treated his de- 
sponding pupil with marked kindness, and particularly 
urged upon him to think of nothing but his books, and 
that all would yet come out bright. This advice was 
heeded ; and at the end of the first quarter Mr. Emerey 



^ DANIEL WEBSTER. 25 

mustered his class in a line, and formally took the arm 
of young Webster, and marched him from the foot to the 
extreme head of the class, exclaiming, in the mean while, 
that this was his proper position. Such an event had for 
many days been anticipated, but when actually accom- 
plished the remainder of the class were surprised and 
chas^rined. 

This triumph greatly encouraged the boy Daniel, and he 
renewed his efforts with his books. He did not doubt but 
that there were many boys in the class as smart as him- 
self, if not smarter ; and he looked with some anxiety to 
the summing up of the second quarter. The day arrived, 
the class was mustered, and Mr. Emerey stood before it, 
when the breathless silence was broken by these words : 
" Daniel Webster, gather up your books and take down 
your cap." 

The boy obeyed, and, thinking that he was about to be 
expelled from school, was sorely troubled about the cause 
of the calamity. The teacher saw this, but soon dispelled 
the illusion, for he continued : '' Now, sir, you will please 
report yourself to the teacher of the first class ; and- you, 
young gentlemen, will take an affectionate leave of your 
class-mate, for you will never see him againP That 
teacher is still living, is a man of distinction, and has ever 
been a warm friend of his fortunate pupil. 

In his fifteenth year he was privileged to spend some 
months with one of the more prominent clergymen of the 
day, the Rev. Samuel Woods, who lived at Boscawen, and 
prepared boys for college at one dollar a week, for tuition 
and board. During his stay with Dr. Woods, he was ap- 

B 



26 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

parently very neglectful of Ms academic duties, but never 
failed to perform all his intellectual tasks with great credit. 
On one occasion the reverend tutor thought proper to give 
his scholar Daniel a scolding for spending too much of his 
time upon the hills and along the streams, hunting and 
fishing, but still complimented him for his smartness. 
The task assigned to him for his next recitation was one 
hundred lines of Virgil ; and as he knew that his master 
had an engagement on the following morning, an idea oc- 
curred to him, and he spent the entire night poring over 
his books. The recitation hour finally arrived, and the 
scholar acquitted himself of his hundred lines and received 
the tutor's approbation. " But I have a few more lines 
that I can recite," said the boy Daniel. " Well, let us 
have them," replied the doctor ; and forthwith the boy 
reeled off another hundred lines. "Very remarkable," 
said the doctor; " you are indeed a smart boy." " But I 
have another," said the scholar, "and five hundred of 
them, if you please." The doctor was, of course, aston- 
ished, but, as he bethought him of his engagement, he 
begged to be excused, and added, " You may have the 
whole day, Dan, for pigeon shooting." 

It was while on their way to Mr. Woods, by-the-way, 
that Mr. Webster's father for the first time opened to him 
the design of sending him to college. The advantages of 
such an education were a privilege to which he had never 
aspired in his most ambitious moments. " I remember," 
he once said, " the very hill which we were ascending, 
through deep snows, in a New England sleigh, when my 
father made known this promise to me. I could not speak. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 27 

How could he, I thought, with so large a family, and in 
such narrow circumstances, think of incurring so great an 
expense for me. A warm glow ran all over me, and I 
laid my head on my father's shoulder and wept." 

When Mr. Webster was a pupil of Dr. Woods, his father 
wrote him a letter, requesting that he would come to Elm's 
Farm to assist him in haying for a few days. He packed 
up his bundle of clothes and obeyed orders. On the morn- 
ing after his arrival home, the boy went to work in the 
field, while the father visited a neighboring town on busi- 
ness. About eleven o'clock the boy came to his mother 
and told her he was very tired, that his hands were blis- 
tered, and that he could not work any longer. The kind 
mother excused her son, as a matter of course, and all 
was well. About an hour after dinner, however, young 
Daniel had tackled up the family horse, placed two of his 
sisters in a wagon, and taken his departure for a famous 
whortleberry hill, where he spent the rest of the day 
scampering over the rocks like a young deer. His father 
returned at night, and having questioned Daniel and his 
mother about the amount of work he had performed, and 
heard the particulars, he laughed, and sent him to bed. 
The next morning, after breakfast, the father handed his 
hopeful son his bundle of clothes, and, with a smiling 
countenance, significantly pointed toward Boscawen, and 
the boy disappeared. As he left the house a neighbor saw 
him, and laughed. 

"Where are you going, Dan?" said he. 

" Back to school," replied Daniel. 

" I thought it would be so," added the neighbor, and 



28 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

uttered another quiet laugh; and back to the academic 
shades returned the incipient statesman. 

The neighbor alluded to above was Thomas W. Thomp- 
son, who subsequently became a representative in Con- 
gress, and who, from the beginning, conceived a high idea 
of Mr. Webster's future eminence. 

As has already been intimated, he was only a few months 
in preparing himself for college, and during that brief pe- 
riod he commenced and mastered the study of Greek, so 
that his tutor was wont to remark that other boys required 
an entire year to accomplish the same end. Of all his 
father's children Daniel Webster was, as a boy, the sick- 
liest and most slender ; and one of his half-brothers, who 
was somewhat of a wag, frequently took pleasure in re- 
marking that " Dan was sent to school because he was 
not fit for any thing else, and that he might know as much 
as the other boys." Even from his earliest boyhood he 
was an industrious reader of standard authors, and previ- 
ous to his entering college his favorite books were Addi- 
son's Spectator, Butler's Hudibras, Pope's translation of 
Homer, and the Essay on Man, the last of which he com- 
mitted to memory ; and though he has never looked it 
through since his fifteenth year, he is at the present time 
able to recite most of it from beginning to end. He was 
particularly fond, too, of the Bible, of Shakspeare, and of 
devotional poetry, and simply as a pleasure he committed 
to memory manj^ of the Psalms and Hymns of Dr. Watts. 
An English translation of Don Quixote was another of his 
favorite books, the power of which over his imagination 
he has described as having been very great. He studied 



(• 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 29 

with interest both Cicero and Virgil, hut he was particu- 
larly partial to Cicero. As he advanced in years, he add- 
ed Sallust, Csesar, Horace, and Demosthenes to the list 
of classic authors which he made it his business, as it was 
his pleasure, to master ; hence it is not surprising that 
the productions of his own mind should be distinguished 
for their refined and classic elegance. 

Mr. Webster went through college in a manner that was 
highly creditable to himself and gratifying to his friends. 
He graduated at Dartmouth in 1801, and though it was 
universally believed that he ought to have received, and 
would receive the valedictory, that honor was not confer- 
red upon him, but upon one whose name has since passed 
into forget fulness. The ill-judging faculty of the college, 
however, bestowed upon him a diploma, but instead of 
pleasing, this commonplace compliment only disgusted 
him, and at the conclusion of the commencement exer- 
cises the disappointed youth asked a number of his class- 
mates to accompany him to the green behind the college, 
where, in their presence, he deliberately to?'e up his hon- 
orary document, and threw it to the winds, exclaiming, 
" My industry may make me a great man, but this mis- 
erable parchment can not !" and immediately mounting 
his horse, departed for home. 

While at college he was faithful to all his regular du- 
ties, but devoted much of his time to general reading, es- 
pecially English literature and history. He took part in 
a weekly newspaper by contributing to it an occasional 
article ; and also delivered an occasional address. Those 
who would like to read his first printed oration, which was 



30 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

delivered to the people of Hanover, are referred to the 
choice collections of American antiquarians : and it is to 
be regretted that it did not appear in the late edition of 
his works. Suffice it to say, that it proves his bosom to 
have been, even at that early day, full of patriotism, and 
that in his youth the seeds of his noblest sentiments had 
taken deep root. The title-page was as follows: "An 
Oration, pronounced at Hanover, N. H., the 4th of July, 
1800, being the twenty-fourth Anniversary of American 
Independence. By Daniel Webster, Member of the Jun- 
ior Class,^ Dartmouth College. 

" Do thou, great Liberty, inspire our souls, 
And make our lives in thy possession happy, 
Or our deaths glorious in thy just defense. — Addison. 

Published by request, and printed at Hanover, by Moses 
Davis." 

On his return home from college, the one great thought 
which occupied his mind was that his brother Ezekiel 
should also receive a liberal education. But his father 
was poor, and how could this result be attained ? "By 
keeping school," said he to himself, " and this shall be the 
first business of my life." No sooner had this idea occur- 
red to him than he sought an opportunity to broach it to 
his much-loved brother. The boys slept together, and he 
did this on their next retiring to bed. Ezekiel was sur- 
prised, but delighted, for he had long felt a yearning de- 
sire to acquire a college education. The trying circum- 
stances of the family were, of course, all discussed, and 
as they thought of the strong affection which existed be- 
tween them, and of the " clouds and shadows" which en- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 31 

veloped the future, they talked and talked, and wept many 
and bitter tears, so that when morning came it found the 
brothers still wakeful, troubled, and unhappy, but yet de- 
termined and hopeful. On that very day, the youth Dan- 
iel left his home to become a country schoolmaster, while 
Ezekiel hastened to place himself under the preparatory 
tuition of the Rev. Samuel Woods, as his brother had done 
before him. 

The place where Mr. Webster spent the most of his time 
as a schoolmaster was Fryeburg, in the State of Maine. 
He had been invited thither by a friend of his father, who 
was acquainted with the circumstances of the family. 
His school was quite large, and his salary $350, to which 
he added a considerable sum by devoting his evenings to 
copying deeds, in the office of the county recorder, at twen- 
ty-five cents per deed. He also found time during this y 
period to go through with his first reading of Blackstone's 
Commentaries, and other substantial works, which have 
been so good a foundation to his after fame. 

The writer once questioned Mr. Webster ^as to his per- 
sonal appearance when officiating as a pedagogue, and his 
reply was, " Long, slender, pale, and all eyes ; indeed, I 
went by the name of all eyes the country round." 

During the summer of 1851, when returning from a 
visit to the White Mountains, accompanied by his son 
Fletcher, he went out of his way to spend a day or two 
in the town of Fryeburg. He revisited, after the lapse 
of half a century, the office of the Recorder of Deeds, and 
there found and exhibited to his son two large bound vol- 
umes of his own handwriting, the sight of which was, of 



32 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

course, suofSfestive of manifold emotions. The son testi- 
fies that the penmanship is neat and elegant ; and the 
father that the ache is not yet out of those fingers which 
so much writing caused them. In one of the volumes 
was found a respectful and affectionate vote of thanks 
and good- will for the services he had performed. 

It is said by those who knew Mr. Webster at Fryeburg, 
that his only recreation, while a school-teacher, was de- 
rived from trout fishing, and that his Wednesday and Sat- 
urday afternoons were almost invariably spent wandering 
alone, with rod in hand, and a copy of Shakspeare in his 
pocket, along the wild and picturesque brooks of that sec- 
tion of country. 

As Dartmouth College gave Mr. Webster the greater 
part of his classical education, it ought to be mentioned 
how it was that he was subsequently enabled to make an 
adequate return to that institution. In 1816, according 
to the clear narrative of Samuel L. Knapp, the Legislature 
of New Hampshire, believing that the right of altering or 
amending the charter of this college, which had been 
•^ granted by the king previous to the Revolution, was vested 
in them by the Constitution of the state, proceeded to en- 
large and improve it. This act was not accepted nor as- 
sented to by the trustees of Dartmouth College, and they 
refused to submit to it any further than they were com- 
pelled to do so by the necessities of the case. The new in- 
stitution, called by the act of the Legislature, '* The Dart- 
mouth University," went into operation, as far as existing 
circumstances would permit. There were two presidents, 
two sets of professors in the same village, and, of course, 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 33 

no good fellowship between them. The students general- 
ly took'vgide with the college party, a few only going over 
to the university. It was a very uncomfortable state of 
things. The faculty of both institutions were highly re- 
spectable, and capable of building up any literary and 
scientific seminary, had they been under different auspi- 
ces. The lawyers were consulted, and the most distin- 
guished of them. Smith, Mason, and Webster, were of the 
opinion that the act of the Legislature of New Hampshire 
was unconstitutional, and of course not valid. It was 
conceded that there were many difficulties in the case ; 
but it was indispensable that the question should be de- 
cided, that one of the institutions might survive the quar- 
rel. The records, charter, and the evidence of the college 
property, were ii> the hands of the new treasurer, and an 
action of trover 'was brought by the trustees of Dartmouth 
College to recover them. The facts were agreed on. The 
question, "Whether the acts of the Legislature of New 
Hampshire, of the 27th of June, and of the 16th and 18th 
of December, 1816, are valid and binding on the rights of 
the plaintiffs, without their acceptance or assent ?" 

It was a great constitutional question. The people of 
Massachusetts took as deep an interest in it as those of 
New Hampshire. The cause was ably argued before the 
Supreme Court of New Hampshire, and the opinion of the 
court was given by Chief-justice Richardson, in favor of 
the validity and constitutionality of the acts of the Legis- 
lature, and judgrnent was accordingly entered up for the 
defendant. Thereupon a writ of error was sued out by 
the plaintiffs in the original suit, and the cause removed 

B2 



34 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

to the Supreme Court of the United States. In March, 
1818, the cause was argued before all the judges by Mr. 
Webster and Mr. Hopkinson for the plaintiffs, and by Mr. 
Holmes and Mr. Wirt for the defendant in error. The 
anxiety of the parties, the great constitutional principle 
involved, the deep interest felt by every lawyer in the 
country in the decision of the question, gave more noto- 
riety to the cause than to any ever brought before that 
august tribunal. Some were apprehensive that the court 
would evade the question in some way or other. Mr. 
Webster had no such fears. He knew the iuJsres well 
enough to believe, that while they were (not anxious to 
meet constitutional questions, whenever they were fully 
brought before them, the subject would be most solemnly 
considered and as fearlessly decided. The question was 
argued on both sides with great ability. The counsel 
were men of research, and their reputations were in the 
case ; for it was well known, whatever way it was decided, 
it would form a leading case. Mr. Webster came to his 
work fully possessed of all the views that could be taken 
of the subject, and he sustained and increased by this ar- 
gument the reputation he had acquired as a profound con- 
stitutional lawyer. Chiefly through his acknowledged in- 
strumentality, the judgment of the State Court was re- 
versed, the acts of the Legislature declared null and void, 
as being unconstitutional. The university disappeared ; 
the college rose with new vigor, and the people of New 
Hampshire acquiesced in the decision, and a great portion 
of the thinking people of the country considered it as a 
new proof of the wisdom and strength of the Constitution 
of the United States. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



35 



EARLY LEGAL CAREER. 

Mr. Webster was admitted to the practice of the law, 
in Boston, in 1805, and was first introduced to the public 
as a lawyer by the distinguished person with whom he had 
chiefly studied his profession, Christopher Grore. After X 
practicing in Boston about one year, his father died, and 
he returned to his paternal home. In 1807 he was ad- 
mitted to practice in the courts of New Hampshire, and 
took up his residence at Portsmouth, where he remained 
about nine years. 

It ought to be mentioned in this place, however, that, 
just before entering upon his Boston practice, he was 
tendered the vacant clerkship of the Court of Common 
Pleas for the county of Hillsborough, New Hampshire, of 
which his father was one of the judges, and the appoint- 
ment had been bestowed upon his son by his colleagues as 
a token of personal regard. The office was worth some 
fifteen hundred dollars, which in those days, and that sec- 
tion of country, was equal to the salary of Secretary of 
State at the present time. Delighted with this realiza- 
tion of his most sanguine hopes, the father hastened to 
communicate the joyful intelligence to his son. 

That son was then a student in the office of Christopher 
Grore, in Boston. He received the news with sensations 
of gladness that he had never before experienced. With 



36 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

a loud, throbbing heart he announced the tidings to his 
legal counselor and friend, and, to his utter astonishment, 
that far-seeing and sagacious man expressed, in the most 
pointed manner, his utter disapprobation of the proposed 
change in his pursuits. '• But my father is poor, and I 
wish to make him comfortable in his old age," replied the 
student. 

"That may all be," continued Mr. Grore, "but you 
should think of the future more than of the present. Be- 
come once a clerk and you will always be a clerk, with 
no prospect of attaining a higher position. Go on and fin- 
ish your legal studies ; you are, indeed, poor, but there are 
gi'eater evils than poverty ; live on no man's favor ; what 
bread you do eat, let it be the bread of independence ; pur- 
sue your profession ; make yourself useful to the world 
and formidable to your enemies, and you will have noth- 
ing to fear." 

The student listened attentively to these sound argu- 
ments, and had the good sense to appreciate them. His 
determination was immediately made ; and now came 
the dreaded business of advising his father as to his in- 
tended course. He felt that it would be a difficult task 
to satisfy him of its propriety, and he therefore determined 
to go home without delay, and give him in full all the 
reasons of his conduct. 

In three days, in spite of the inclemency of the weath- 
er, for it was winter, he had reached the dwelling on Elms 
Farm. According to his own account, he arrived there 
in the evening, and found his father sitting before the fire. 
He received him with manifest joy. He looked feebler 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 37 

than he had ever appeared, but his countenance lighted 
up on seeing his clerk stand before him in good health 
and spirits. He lost no time in alluding to the great ap- 
pointment ; said how /spontaneously it had been made, 
how kindly the chief justice proposed it, and with what 
unanimity all assented. During this speech, it can be 
well imagined how embarrassed Mr. Webster felt, com- 
pelled, as he thought, from a conviction of duty, to disap- 
point his father's sanguine expectations. Nevertheless, 
he commanded his countenance and voice, so as to reply 
in a sufficiently assured manner. He spoke gayly about 
the office ; expressed his great obligation to their honors, 
and his intention to write them a most respectful letter ; 
if he could have consented to record any body's judgments, 
he should have been proud to have recorded their honors, 
&c., &c. He proceeded in this strain till his father ex- 
hibited signs of amazement, it having occurred to him, 
finally, that his son might all the while be serious. "Do 
you intend to decline this office ?" he said, at length. 
" Most certainly," replied his son. " I can not think of / 
doing otherwise. I mean to use my tongue in the courts, 
not my pen ; to be an actor, not a register of other men's j 
actions." 

For a moment Judge "Webster seemed angry. He rock- 
ed his chair slightly ; a flash went over his eye, softened 
by age, but even then black as jet, but it soon disappeared, 
and his countenance regained its usual serenity. "Well, 
my son," said Judge Webster, finally, " your mother al- 
ways said that you would come to something or nothing 
— ^become a somebody or a nobody ; it is now settled that 



38 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

/ 

you are to be a nobody." In a few days the student re- 
turned to Boston, and the subject was never afterward 
mentioned in the family. 

Within six months after Mr. Webster had declined the 
county court clerkship, he was, even as a student in Mr. 
Grore's office, remarkably successful in accumulating mon- 
ey for his legal services, and being aware of the fact that 
his father was considerably embarrassed in his circum- 
stances, he resolved to go home and liquidate all the pend- 
ing claims. He arrived at home ostensibly for a friendly 
visit. It was Saturday night, and he sought an early op- 
portunity to have a private interview with his father. 
" Father, I am going to pay your debts," said he. 

" Oh, my son, that can never be ; you know not how 
numerous they are." 

" But I can, and will, father ; and that, too, before next 
Monday night." 

On the Tuesday morning following. Judge Webster was 
a free man, and his son Daniel was on his return to Boston. 

Mr. Webster practiced law in Portsmouth nearly nine 
years, and during that time one of his best friends, and 
also his most prominent competitor, was the distinguished 
Jeremiah Mason'. On one occasion a gentleman called 
upon the former for the purpose of securing his services 
in a lawsuit ; but Mr. Webster was compelled to decline 
the engagement, but recommended his client to Mr. Mason. 

"What do you think of the abilities of Mr. Mason?" 
said the gentleman. 

"I think him second to no man in the country," replied 
Mr. Webster. 



/ 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 39 

The gentleman called upon Mr. Mason, and having se- 
cured his promise of assistance, he thought he would grat- 
ify his curiosity, and therefore questioned him as to his 
opinion of Mr. Wehster. " He's the very devil, in any 
case whatsoever," replied Mr. Mason ; " and if he's against 
you, I beg to be excused." 

Mr. Webster, who subsequently met Pinkney, and Wirt, 

'v 

and Emmet at the bar, recently said that he never feared 
any of them so much as Jeremiah Mason. 

The first meeting of Mr. Webster with Jeremiah Mason 
was in a criminal trial. A noted person, belonging to the 
Democratic party, had been indicted for counterfeiting, 
and it was deemed particularly important that he should 
be acquitted. Mr. Mason stood foremost among his pro- 
fessional brethren, and was of course employed to defend 
the accused. When the trial came on, the Attorney G-en- , 
eral happened to be absent, whereupon Mr. Webster was 
delegated to conduct the prosecution for the state. Mr. 
Mason came into court, and conducted himself somewhat 
after the manner of Goliath ; but when Mr. Webster, like 
another David (to use the language of a contemporary), 
" came down upon his distinguished opponent like a show- 
er of hail," Mr. Mason was astonished, and began to trem- y 
ble for the fate of his client. It so happened, however, 
that a Democratic jury acquitted their friend ; but Mr. 
Mason subsequently expressed himself as having being 
struck with the high, open, and manly ground taken by 
Mr. Webster, not resorting to technicalities, but sticking t^ 
to the main points of the law and the facts, and at that 



40 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

early period prophesied that his future puhlic career would 
he particularly brilliant and useful. 

In legal acquu'ements and logical skill, Jeremiah Ma- 
son and Jeremiah Smith, according to the Rev. John H. 
Morrison, were not the unworthy associates and antago- 
nists of Daniel Webster ; while, in the combination of 
gifts which make the commanding orator, he stood with 
them, as he had done every where else, like Mount Wash- 
ington among the other mountains of New England. Mr. 
Smith often said that in single qualities he had known 
I men superior to Mr. Webster ; that Hamilton had more 
j original genius ; Ames greater quickness of imagination ; 
that Marshall, Parsons, and Dexter were as remarkable 
for logical strength ; but that in the union of high intel- 
lectual qualities he had known no man whom he thought 
vjiis equal. 

Among the New Hampshire anecdotes which Mr. Web- 
ster was in the habit of occasionally narrating to his friends 
was the following, which we give the substance of in near- 
ly his own words : 

"Soon after commencing the practice of my profession 
at Portsmouth, I was waited on by an old acquaintance 
of my father's, resident in an adjacent county, who wished 
to engage my professional services. Some years previous, 
he had rented a farm, with the clear understanding that 
he could purchase it, after the expiration of his lease, for 
one thousand dollars. Finding the said productive, he 
soon determined to own it, and, as he laid aside money 
for the purchase, he was prompted to improve what he 
felt certain he would possess. But his landlord finding the 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 41 

property greatly increased in value, coolly refused to receive 
the one thousand dollars, when in due time it was pre- 
sented ; and when his extortionate demand of double that 
sum was refused, he at once brought an action of eject- 
ment. The man had but the one thousand dollars, and an 
unblemished reputation, yet I willingly undertook his case. 

"The opening argument of the plaintiff's attorney left 
me little ground for hope. He stated that he could prove 
that my client hired the farm, but there was not a word in 
the lease about the sale, nor was there a word spoken 
about the sale when the lease was signed, as he should 
prove by a witness. In short, his was a clear case, and 
I left the court-room at dinner-time with feeble hopes of 
success. By chance, I sat at table next a newly-com- 
missioned militia officer, and a brother lawyer began to 
joke him about his lack of martial knowledge ; ' Indeed,' 
he jocosely remarked, ' you should write down the orders, 

and get old W to beat them into your sconce, as I 

saw him this morning, with a paper in his hand, teaching 
something to young M in the court-house entry.' 

" Can it be, I thought, that old W , the plaintiff in 

the case, was instructing young M , who was his re- 
liable witness ? 

" After dinner the court was reopened, and M was 

put on the stand. He was examined by the plaintiff's 
counsel, and certainly told a clear, plain story, repudiating 
all knowledge of any agreement to sell. When he had 
concluded, the opposite counsel, with a triumphant glance, 
turned to me, and asked me if I was satisfied ? ' Not 
quite,' I replied. 



42 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

" I had noticed a piece of paper protruding from M 's 

pocket, and hastily approaching him, I seized it before he 
had the least idea of ray intention. ' Now,' I asked, ' tell 
me if this paper does not detail the story you have so clear- 
ly told, and is it not false V The witness hung his head 
with shame ; and when the paper was found to be what 

^ I had supposed, and in the very handwriting of old W , 

he lost his case at once. Nay, there was such a storm of 
indiofnation against him that he soon removed to the West. 

" Years afterward, visiting New Hampshire, I was the 
guest of my professional brethren at a public dinner ; and 
toward the close of the festivities, I was asked if I would 
solve a great doubt by answering a question. ' Certainly.' 
^ Well, then, Mr. Webster, we have often wondered how 
you knew what was in M 's pocket.' " 

Bv way of showing the character of some of his fees 
while practicing law at Portsmouth, the following incident 
is worth recording : One of his clients, after gaining a cer- 
tain suit, found himself unable to raise the necessary 
funds to pay his lawyer, and therefore insisted upon deed- 
ing to him a piece of land in a neighboring county. And 
so the matter rested for many years. Happening to be on 
a visit to this county at a subsequent period, he hunted 
out this land, and found an old woman living upon it 
alone, in an old house situated among rocks. He ques- 
tioned the w^oman about the farm, and learned that it was 
the property of a lawyer named Webster, and that she was 
daily expecting him to come on and turn her out of doors. 
Whereupon he made himself known as the proprietor, gave 
her a word of consolation, with a present of fifty dollars. 



/ DANIEL WEBSTER. 43 

broke bread with her at her humble board, and took his 

departure. From that time to the present the place has 

... V 

been known as " Webster's Farm," and it is believed that 

up to the day of his death the idea of this possession had 

never entered his mind. 

At the time that Mr. Webster quitted Portsmouth for 
Bostonj^ he was doing the heaviest law business of any 
man in New Hampshire ; he was retained in nearly all 
the important causes, and but seldom appeared as the 
junior counsel. His practice was chiefly in the Circuit 
Courts ; and during the last six weeks of his labors, previ- 
ous to his departure for Boston, his earnings amounted to 
only five hundred dollars. This was the result of a jour- 
ney into every county in the state, and was really the 
primal cause of his removal to a wider sphere of action. 

When Mr. Webster was practicing law in his native 
state, " riding the circuit" was a very different matter 
from what it now is, in this age of rail-roads. So extens- 
ive was his business, even at this period, that he was fre- 
quently compelled to journey from one place to another 
durinof the night. On one occasion, after a toilsome series 
of days and nights, he was journeying on horseback, as 
usual, along a lonely road, when he fell into a profound 
study upon the merits of the case he was compelled to at- 
tend to on the following morning. Long and tedious was 
the trial as it proceeded in the chamber of his brain, when, 
just as the jury was about to pronounce the verdict, a drop 
of water fell upon his hand, and lo ! as the moon came out 
of a cloud, he found himself comfortably seated on his 
horse, which had sought a convenient standing-place un- 



44 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

der an old oak, as if determined that its master should \ 
enjoy the quiet nap which he so much needed. Thanks 
to the dew-drop, the journey was resumed, and the cause 
of the following day was satisfactorily settled. 
V It was in the year 1817 that Mr. Webster took up his 
permanent residence in Boston. During his career as a 
member of Congress, to which he was first elected in 1812, 
his legal and private interests had materially suffered, and 
he felt the need of a broader field than Portsmouth for his 
future action. He had already become identified, says 
Mr. Knapp, in his biography, with the interests of the New 
England metropolis, and the more opulent merchants do- 
ing business there were ready to employ him. Boston 
was then the residence of some of the first lawyers of the 
nation ; such men, for example, as Dexter, Prescott, Otis, 
^ Sullivan, Shaw, Grorham, and Hubbard, and there seemed 
to be little room for another in the upper class of the legal 
fraternity ; but Mr. Webster seemed to walk into this dis- 
tinguished company like one who had a right to be there, 
and though many opened wide their eyes, none dared to 
question his right to be there. In a very few months his 
name appeared as senior counsel in many important 
causes, and he deported himself like one who was simply 
enjoying his birth-right. His practice was not confined 
to the county of Suffolk,' but extended to the neighboring 
counties, and others in the interior of the state. His pow- 
ers as an advocate and a lawyer were at once conceded, 
thoucrh some found fault with his manners at the bar as 
a little too severe and sharp ; this, however, was soon for- 
gotten in the admiration that every where followed him. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 45 

The people were always with him, and few had the har- 
dihood to declare themselves his rivals. 

As were his manners at the bar some thirty years ago, 
so were they through his life, whenever he appeared in a 
deliberative assembly. He began to state his points in a 
low voice, and in a slow, cool, cautious, and philosophical 
manner. If the case was of importance, he went on, ham- 
mering out, link by link, his chain of argument, with 
ponderous blows, leisurely inflicted ; and, while thus at 
labor, you rather saw the sinews of the arm than the skill 
of the artist. It was in reply, however, that he came out 
in the majesty of intellectual grandeur, and poured forth 
the opulence of his mind ; it was when the arrows of the 
enemy had hit him that he was all might and soul, and 
showered his words of weight and fire. His style of ora- 
tory was founded on no model, but was entirely his own. 
He dealt not with the fantastic and poetical, but with the 
matter-of-fact, every-day world, and the multifarious af- 
fairs of his fellow-men, extricating them from difficulties, 
and teaching them how to become happy. He never 
strove to dazzle, astonish, or confuse, but went on to con- 
vince and conquer by great but legitimate means. When 
he went out to battle, he went alone, trusting to no earth- 
ly arm but his own. He asked for no trophies but his 
own conquests ; he looked not for the laurel of victory, 
but it was proffered to him by all, and bound his brow 
until he went out on some new exploit. 

As Mr. Webster was a prominent politician for about 
forty years, it may gratify curiosity to know when and 
hovr he entered upon this important career. It was be- 



46 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

fore he had attained his thirtieth year, when the times 
were stormy, and party spirit ran high in view of a war 
I with Grreat Britain. He entered the field, says Mr. 
Knapp, like one who had made up his mind to be dec 1- 
ed, firm, and straightforward in all his actions. No pol- 
itician was ever more direct and hold, and he had nothing 
of the demagogue about him. Fully persuaded of the 
true course, he followed it with so much firmness and 
principle, that sometimes his serenity was taken by the 
furious and headstrong as apathy ; but when a fair and 
legitimate opportunity offered, he came out with such 
strength and manliness that the doubting were satisfied 
and the complaining silenced. In the worst of times and 
the darkest hour, he had faith in the redeeming qualities 
of the people. They might be wrong, but he saw into 
their true character sufficiently to believe that they would 
never remain permanently in error. In some of his con- 
versations upon the subject, he compared the people, in 
the management of the national affairs, to that of the sa- 
gacious and indefatigable raftsmen on his native Merri- 
mack, who had falls and shoals to contend with in their 
course to the ocean — guiding fearlessly and skillfully over 
the form.er — between rocks and through breakers ; and, 
when reaching the sand-banks, jumping ofl'into the water, 
with lever, ax, and oar ; and then, v/ith pushing, cutting, 
and directing, made all rub and go to the astonishment 
of those lookins: on. 

The first halo of political glory that hung around his 
brow was at a convention of the great spirits in the county 
of Rockingham, where he then resided, and such represent- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 47 

atives from other counties as were sent to this convention, 
to take into consideration the state of the nation, and to 
mark out such a course for themselves as should be deemed 
ac visable by the collected wisdom of those assembled. 
On this occasion an address with a string of resolutions 
were proposed for adoption, of which he was the author. 
They exhibited uncommon powers of intellect, and a pro- 
found knowledge of our national interests. He made a 
most powerful speech in support of these resolutions, por- 
tions of which were printed at the time, and much ad- 
mired throughout the Union. From this time he belonsed 
to the United States, and not to New Hampshire exclu- 
sively. Massachusetts also took as great an interest in his 
career as his native state. After the above debut^ crowds 
gathered around him on every occasion that he appeared, 
and his speeches were invariably received with the most 
sincere and heartfelt applause. 



48 PRIVATE LIFE OF 



ELMS FARM. 

The spot where Mr. Webster spent the greater part of 
his childhood and youth is known as the " Elms Farm," 
and is only about three miles from his birth-place. It 
contains one thousand acres, lies directly in a bend of the 
Merrimack, and is one of the finest farms in New Hamp- 
shire. It descended to his brother Ezekiel and himself 
after the death of their father in 1806, and though in- 
trinsically of great value, yet to the admirer of the great 
and good in human intellect it must ever be a kind of 
Mecca, and possess a value not to be estimated by money. 
A portion of it is interval land, while the remainder com- 
prehends a number of picturesque hills, from some of 
which may be seen the White Mountains, including the 
grand summit of Mount Washington, and between Kear- 
sag-e and the Ragged Mountains the picturesque peak 
of Ascutny, in Vermont. 

It is pre-eminently a grazing farm, and one of the mead- 
ow fields alone contains nearly one hundred acres, and as 
it is encircled and occasionally dotted with graceful elms, 
it presents a truly charming appearance ; especially so 
during the haying season, when a score or two of men are 
wielding the scythe in a kind of cavalcade ; or when, as 
in autumn, it is the pasturing ground of herds composed 
of the Devon, Ayrshire, and Hereford breeds of cattle. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 49 

Near the centre of the above field are the almost obliter- 
ated remains of a fort which links the farm with its early- 
history, when this particular region was the frontier of the 
British colonies, and when the Indians, as the allies of the 
French, made it their chief business to destroy the pioneer 
inhabitants. The fort stood on a ridge of land south of 
the burying-ground, and the plow which passes over it 
at the present day frequently brings to light warlike me- 
morials of the olden times. But a Sabbath peace now 
broods over the domain of the Webster family ; the wil- 
derness has indeed blossomed as the rose ; the war-whoop 
has given place to the lowing of cattle, the bleating of 
sheep, and the tinkling of bells ; and yet it is pleasant to 
know that the changes are not universal ; for the same 
morning and evening atmospheres — the same healthful 
breezes — and the same loud singing birds, with the whip- 
powil, too, were recently there to make glad and to soothe 
the heart, in the evening as once in the morning of his 
days, of that great and good man Vvdio was born among 
these hills, and whose name has baptized them with a 
classic fame. One of the last Indian murders committed 
in New Hampshire, that of Mrs. Call, was on this estate. 
Here yet remain the cellar of her habitation, and the visi- 
ble plot of her garden, where her husband raised his In- 
dian corn one hundred years ago, and down to the period 
of Mr. Webster's recollection parsnips in this garden had 
perpetuated themselves. The tradition is, that Philip Call 
and his son were at work in a meadow. In the house were 
Mrs. Call the elder and her daughter-in-law, who at the 
time had an infant in her arms. Seeing the Indians com- 

C 



50 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

ing, the young woman crept in behind the chimney, hush- 
ed her child, and was not discovered by them. Mrs. Call 
was killed, and the Indians departed. Mr. Webster's fa- 
ther bought the farm of Philip Call; and John Call, the 
preserved child, Mr. Webster knew in early Ufe. 

The dwellings on Elms Farm consist of the house with 
which were associated all his earlier and more precious 
recollections, also the one occupied by himself during his 
annual sojourn in the Grranite State, and the one occupied 
by the tenant of the farm ; while the barns and other out- 
houses number about a dozen, all painted white, and kept 
in the nicest possible order. A rail-road, connecting the 
Upper Connecticut River with Boston, crosses the farm in 
rather a picturesque manner, so that its proprietor could 
dine among the mountains and partake of his supper some 
three hours later in the capital of New England. It was 
in his house on this farm, with the tombs of his family be- 
fore him at the end of a beautiful field, that the famous 
letter to Hillsemann was written. Directlv in front of 
this house are a number of elm and maple trees, which 
were planted by Mr. Webster, and one of them, especial- 
ly, was transplanted from the foot of a neighboring hill, 
where, when a boy, he once froze his feet while sliding in 
the snow. 

Mr. Webster's reputation as a practical agriculturist was 
coextensive with his native state, and indeed with New 
England ; and that it was justly so, the following figures, 
obtained from the tenant of Elms Farm, alone will prove. 
The yield of the farm during the year 1851 was estima- 
ted thus: of English hay, one hundred and forty tons, 
/ 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 51 

of potatoes, consisting of five varieties, two thousand bush- 
els ; of sheep, four hundred and fifty ; and of cattle, one 
hundred. One yoke of oxen, when completely dressed, 
weighed twenty-nine hundred pounds, and were sold in 
the Boston market at seven dollars per hundred. 

While upon his visit to Elms Farm in 1851, Mr. AVeb- 
ster's tenant had about twenty men in his employ making 
hay. On one occasion, when they were engaged in one 
field, the " Lord of the Manor" went forth to witness their 
operations, and having stood for some time in silence, the 
smell of the hay gave new life to the blood of his youth, 
and taking off" his coat, and throwing it upon the ground, 
he demanded a fork and went to work, declaring that he 
could " pitch more hay in an hour than any man in the 
crowd." And he verily fulfilled his promise. He helped 
load the largest wagon no less than three times, and also 
performed the duties of wagon-boy in as scientific a man- 
ner, too, as if this had been the chief business of his life, 
instead of helping to manage the wheels of government, 
officiating as a diplomatist, or delighting a listening Senate 
with his eloquence. 

The following story was related by Mr. Webster during 
a conversation the writer had with him about the early 
history of New Hampshire, while taking a morning walk 
along the Merrimack : 

Among the many prisoners who were taken by the Cone- 
wago Indians during the old French war of 1756, in the 
immediate vicinity of Elms Farm, and sold to the French 
in Canada, was a man named Peter Bowen. When peace 
was declared, he obtained his liberty and returned to his 



52 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

family, who resided in Boscawen. In the year 1763, two 
Indians of the Conewago tribe, Sebat and his son, came 
from the borders of Canada upon a visit to the valley of 
the Merrimack, and happening to fall into the company of 
Bowen, spent the night with him for old acquaintance' 
sake, and, in the enthusiasm brought on by forest recol- 
lections, the party went through the performances of a 
drunken frolic. When the time came for the Indians to 
return, Bowen accompanied them a few miles on their 
way, when, as they were in the act of crossing a small 
stream running through Elms Farm, and now known as 
Indian Brook, the w^hite man suddenly fell upon his red 
friends, shooting one and killing the other with the butt 
of his gun, and secreted their bodies in the top of a fallen 
tree. 

"Weeks passed on, and it was rumored far and near that 
Sebat and his son had been murdered, and that Bowen 
was the murderer. The inhabitants of the Merrimack val- 
ley were well acquainted with the characteristic code of 
the Indians, demanding blood for blood, and, in self-de- 
fense, thought it their duty to have Bowen arrested and 
punished. He was arrested, tried, found guilty, and con- 
demned to be hung, and this intelligence was transmitted 
to the Conewago Indians. 

During the imprisonment of Bowen, however, in the 
jail at Exeter (to which he had to be removed), a portion 
of the inhabitants became impressed with the idea that no 
white man ought to be hung for killing an Indian, where- 
upon a party of them, disguised as Mohawk Indians, broke 
the Exeter jail open and gave Bowen his freedom, and he 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 53 

lived in peace on his farm during the remainder of his 
days. 

When Bowen died, he left his farm to an only son, who 
lived quietly upon it until he was seventy years of age, 
and the head of a large family. The story of his father's 
wickedness in murdering the Indians, though it occurred 
before his birth, had tinged with gloom even his happier 
days, and now the thought came to possess his mind 
that he must atone for the deed committed by his father. 
His friends remonstrated, but nothing could deter him 
from his purpose. He parted with his family ; many 
tears were shed and lamentations uttered, but he entered 
upon his line of march for Canada, feeble and old, and ^ 
gave himself up as a prisoner to the Conewago nation. 
The Indians were astonished at this instance of heroism, 
and, instead of taking blood for blood, they adopted him 
as a chief among their chiefs, and subsequently permitted i 
him to return to the Merrimack valley, where he died in i 
the midst of his children. 

On one occasion, some years ago, when Mr. Webster 
was visited at Elms Farm by some two or three hundred 
of his New Hampshire friends, he addressed them, as was 
his wont, in a friendly and familiar way, giving an ac- 
count, as it were, of his stewardship in the capacity of a 
statesman. He stood upon the porch of his own residence, 
and in full view of the family burying-ground , and after 
reaffirming the opinions he had long entertained upon the 
prominent questions of the day, he concluded his remarks 
by saying, " And before changing these opinions, fellow- 
citizens, you will be called upon to convey my body to 



54 PRIVATELIFEOF 

yonder grave-yard." He uttered the sentiment while la- 
boring under the deepest emotion, and its effect upon his 
audience was to melt them to tears. 

The name of Mr. Webster's tenant on Elms Farm is 
John Taylor, He was transported thither about twenty 
years ago from the region of Marshfield, and in several 
particulars he is a great man. His height is nearly six 
feet and five inches ; he has a heart bigger than his body, 
and is really a superb specimen of American yeomanry. 
But his reigning peculiarity was his attachment to his 
landlord. When the latter was temporarily ill during the 
summer of 1851, John Taylor watched by his bedside night 
after night without closing his eyes, performing all the 
delicate duties of a nurse with the gentleness of a woman. 
" If I saw a bullet coming to his heart," said he to the 
writer, on one occasion, " I would jump in the way of it, 
and receive it myself;" and when told that this was very 
strong language, he added, " I know it is, but then I 
should be certain that my family would be provided for 
and made comfortable. From no man livinsf could a 
greater number of personal anecdotes be obtained calcu- 
lated to illustrate the more endearins; attributes of Mr. 
Webster's heart; how he was with him, for example, 
when he gave an old man, a friend of his father's, money 
enough to buy a small farm; how he accompanied him 
to the summit of a hill, one summer evening, and heard 
him talk in the most affectina: manner, as he sat musinof 
upon the spot where he was born, while his eyes were 
constantly filling with tears ; and how, on many occasions, 
he had descanted to him, in the most glowing languacre, 



DANIEL Vv^EBSTER. 55 

on the pleasures of farming, contrasting them with the 
trials and perplexities of a public life. John Taylor is also 
a first-rate farmer, and has performed as great an amount 
of hard labor as any other man in the Union, and is de- 
serving, in every particular, of the ardent friendship and 
unlimited confidence of his late landlord. 

In some long talks that the writer had with John Tay- 
lor about Mr. Webster, much was said about his knowl- 
edge of farming ; and by way of exhibiting this, the fol- 
lowing familiar letters, selected from a large number of 
like character, were copied, and are now printed from the 
journals in which they originally appeared, before the re- 
quest of the literary executors had been made known. 

" Washington, March 13th, 1852. 
" John Taylor, 
" I am glad to hear from you again, and to learn that 
you are all well, and that your teams and tools are ready 
for spring's work, whenever the weather will allow you 
to begin. I sometimes read books on farming ; and I re- 
member that a very sensible old author advises farmers 
' to plow naked and to sow naked.^ By this he means 
that there is no use in beginning spring's work till the 
weather is warm, that a farmer may throw aside his win- 
ter clothes and roll up his sleeves. Yet he says we ought 
to begin as early in the year as possible. He wrote some 
very pretty verses on this subject, which, as far as I re- 
member, run thus : 

u t wiiile yet the spring is young, while earth unbinds 
The frozen bosom to the western winds ; 



56 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

While mountain snows dissolve against the sun, 
And streams, yet new, from precipices run — 
E'en in this early dawning of the year, 
Produce the plow, and yoke the sturdy steer ; 
And goad him till he smoke beneath his toil, 
And the bright share is buried in the soil.' 

"John Taylor, when you read these lines, do you not see 
the snow melting, and the little streams beginning to run 
down the southern slopes of your Punch-brook pasture, and 
the new grass starting and growing in the trickling water, 
all green, bright, and beautiful ? and do you not see your 
Durham oxen smoking from heat and perspiration as they 
draw along your great breaking-up plow, cutting and 
turning over the tough sward in your meadow in the great 
field ? The name of this sensible author is Virgil ; and 
he gives farmers much other advice, some of which you 
have been following all this winter without even knowing 
that he had given it. 

" * But when cold weather, heavy snows, and rain. 
The laboring farmer in his house restrain. 
Let him forecast his work, with timely care, 
"V\Tiich else is huddled when the skies are fair ; 
Then let him mark the sheep, and whet the shining share, 
Or hollow trees for boats, or number o'er 
His sacks, or measure his increasing store ; 
Or sharpen stakes, and mend each rake and fork, 
So to be ready, in good time, to work — 
Visit his crowded barns at early morn. 
Look to his granary, and shell his corn ; 
Give a good breakfast to his numerous kine, 
His shivering poultry, and his fattening swine.' 

"And Mr. Virgil says some other things, which you un- 
derstand up at Franklin as well as ever he did : 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 57 

" ' In chilling winter, swains enjoy their store, 
. Forget their hardships, and recruit for more ; 
The farmer to full feasts invites his friends, 
And what he got with pains, with pleasure spends ; 
Draws chairs around the fire, and tells, once more, 
Stories which often have heen told before ; 
Spreads a clean table with things good to eat. 
And adds some moistening to his fruit and meat ; 
They praise his hospitality, and feel 
They shall sleep better after such a meal.' 

'' John Taylor, by the time you have got through this, 
you will have read enough. The sum of all is, be ready 
for your spring's work as soon as the weather becomes 
warm enough, and then put your hand to the plow, and 
look not back. Daniel Webster." 



" Washington, March 17th, 1852. 
_" John Taylor, 

" G-o ahead. The heart of the winter is broke, and be- 
fore the first day of April all your land may be plowed. 
Buy the oxen of Captain Marston, if you think the price 
fair. Pay for the hay. I send you a check for $160, for 
these two objects. Put the great oxen in a condition to 
be turned out and fattened. You have a good horse-team, 
and I think, in addition to this, four oxen and a pair of 
four-year-old steers will do your work. If you think so, 
then dispose of the Stevens oxen, or unyoke them, and 
send them to the pasture, for beef. I know not when I 
shall see you, but I hope before planting. If you need 
any thing, such as guano, for instance, write to Joseph 
Buck, Esq., Boston, and he will send it to you. What- 
ever ground you sow or plant, see that it is in good con- 

2 



58 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

dition. We want no pennyroyal crops. ' A little farm 
well tilled,' is to a farmer the next test thing to ' a little 
wife well willed.' Cultivate your garden. Be sure to 
produce sufficient quantities of useful vegetables. A man 
may half support his family from a good garden. Take 
care to keep my mother's garden in good order, even if it 
cost you the wages of, a man to. take care of it. I have 
sent you many garden seeds. Distribute them among 
your neighbors. Send them to the stores in the village,, / 
that every body may have a part of them without cost. 
I am glad that you have chosen Mr. Pike representative. 
He is a true man ; but there are in New Hampshire many 
persons who call themselves "Whigs, who are no Whigs at 
all, and no better than disunionists. Any man who hes- 
itates in granting and securing to every part of the coun- 
try its just and constitutional rights, is an enemy to the 
whole country. John Taylor ! if one of your boys should 
say that he honors his father and mother, and loves his 
brothers and sisters, but still insists that one of them shall 
be driven out of the family, what can you say of him but 
this, that there is no real family love in him ? You and 
I are farmers ; we never talk politics — our talk is of oxen ; 
but remember this : that any man who attempts to ex- 
cite one part of this country against another, is just as 
wicked as he would be who should attempt to get up a 
quarrel between John Taylor and his neighbor, old- Mr. 
John Sanborn, or his other neighbor. Captain Burleigh. 
There are some animals that live best in the fire ; and 
there are some men who delight in heat, smoke, combus- 
tion, and even general conflagration. They do not follow 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 59 

the things which make for peace. They enjoy only con- 
troversy, contention, and strife. Have no communion with 
such persons, either as neighbors or politicians. You have 
no more right to say that slavery ought not to exist in 
Virginia, than a Virginian has to say that slavery ought 
to exist in New Hampshire. This~Is a question left to 
every state to decide for itself; and if we mean to keep 
the states together, we must leave to every state this pow- 
er of deciding for itself. I think I never wrote you a word 
before upon politics. I shall not do it again. I only say 
love your country, and your whole country; and when 
men attempt to persuade you to get into a quarrel with 
the laws of other states, tell them ' that you mean to mind 
your own business,' and advise them to mind theirs. John 
Taylor, you are a free man ; you possess good principles ; 
you have a large family to rear and provide for by your 
labor. Be thankful to the government which does not op- 
press you, which does not bear you down by excessive 
taxation, but which holds out to you and to yours the 
hope of all the blessings which liberty, industry, and se- 
curity may give. John Taylor, thank Grod, morning and 
evening, that you were born in such a country. John 
Taylor ! never write me another word upon politics. Grive 
n;iy kindest remembrance to your wife and children ; and 
when you look from your eastern windows upon the graves 
of my family, remember that he who is the author of this 
letter must soon follow them to another world. 

" Daniel Webster." 

Mr. Webster was often heard to say that he never en- 



60 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

joyed himself to such perfection in any place whatsoever, 
as when spending a few weeks at midsunimer upon his 
New Hampshire farm. The associations of his birth-place 
and boyhood seem to have had an iron grasp upon his af- 
fections, which even the important duties and high aspira- 
tions of the statesman could not cloy or render insipid. 
Ajid when there, he visited, and was visited by, his stur- 
dy and very worthy neighbors without any ceremony. 
Throughout the whole region was he spoken of as '' the 
squire,'''' and, while the nation and the world admired him 
for his intellect, his rustic friends loved him for the good- 
ness of his heart. Many called upon him simply to shake 
him by the hand and inquire after his health ; some came 
to consult him on topics connected with agriculture ; and 
others, in the simplicity of their hearts, thought it per- 
fectly proper to consult him in regard to their petty law- 
suits ; and he ever treated them, as a matter of course, 
with the utmost kindness, helping them out of their trou- 
bles " without money and without price." To those who 
have been in the habit of paying him retaining fees of 
five thousand dollars or more, such conduct on the part 
of Mr. Webster must indeed appear strange. 

The last time Mr. "Webster visited Elms Farm, which 
was in July last, the writer was his only companion. All 
along the rail-road, on our way from Boston to the mount- 
ains, groups and crowds of people were assembled to wel- 
come him to his native state ; but this had for so long a 
time been a consequence of his annual visits to Elms Farm, 
that he was therefore not taken by surprise. At Concord 
he heard the particulars of an accident which had hap- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 61 

pened to his man John Taylor, and when told that his life 
was in danger, he was sadly distressed, and manifested 
great impatience to reach home. On alighting from the 
cars and stepping upon his threshold, he only took time 
to cast one loving look at his noble rows of elms and broad 
fields just ready for the scythe, before he went to visit his 
tenant. Though he found his yeoman friend suffering 
from a dislocated shoulder, a dreadfully bruised breast, 
and a fearful gash in his thigh, some seven inches long, 
yet the doctor had declared him out of danger. With this 
news Mr. Webster was, of course, delighted. Before he 
left Boston he had heard of the accident, but no particu- 
lars ; and as he did not apprehend any danger, his first 
thought was, " What shall I take John Taylor as a pres- 
ent?" which question he answered by bringing him a 
basket of grapes and a f7'esh salmon. The present was 
fit for a king, but John Taylor deserved it. 

The accident alluded to was caused by an angry bull, 
who turned upon his keeper in a fit of causeless anger, 
and not only tossed him high into the air with his horns, 
but trampled him under his feet. It is a wonder the man 
was not killed. What saved him was the presence of 
mind which he manifested in seizing and holding on to a 
ring in the bull's nose. In spite of his wickedness, this 
animal deserves a passing notice in this connection, as he 
was a very great favorite with his owner. He was pre- 
sented to Mr. Webster by his devoted friend, Roswell L. 
Colt, Esq., of New Jersey, and he is of what is called the 
Hungarian breed. He is a magnificent creature, quite 
young, weighs some two thousand pounds, of a beautiful 



62 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

mouse or slate color, and has a neck which measures more 
than six feet in circumference. John Taylor's account 
of the attack upon himself, and of other exploits of the 
bull, was very amusing ; and when asked by Mr. "Webster 
if he really thought the animal dangerous and ought to be 
chained, he replied, " Why, he is no more fit to go abroad 
than your friend Grovernor Kossuth himself." " Rather 
strong language this,*' replied Mr. "Webster ; " but when 
a man has been gored almost to death by a Hungarian 
bull, it is not strange that he should be severe upon the 
Hungarian governor." 

A short time before we left Boston for Elms Farm, Mr. 
"Webster directed the writer to go to a book-store and 
purchase some forty or fifty volumes of late English books 
for his use at the farm. He left the selection entirely to 
the purchaser, and he was, of course, much gratified to 
know that his judgment in this rather delicate commission 
was fully approved. The collection consisted of one or 
two odd dictionaries, works on natural history, books of 
travel, a little history, and several volumes of correspond- 
ence, but not a fragment on politics. 

A number of reviews were also sent up by the book- 
sellers, containing elaborate articles about himself, and 
the complete edition of his works. "When he found him 
at leisure, the writer handed him these, but he would 
not look at them. The writer then told him that they 
were well written, and an offer was made to read some of 
them aloud, but he would not consent. The reasons that 
he gave for declining even to know what had been said 
were, that such things were not at all interesting to him ; 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 63 

that he had done his best through life, and that this con- 
sciousness was more comforting to him than the o-ood 
opinions of those who knew him not ; that he was getting 
to be an old man ; that his candle of life was already in 
the socket ; and that to one just entering life these things 
might be pleasant, but he was going off the stage, and 
had no taste for them ; that if any body should misrepre- 
sent him in regard to facts, and he heard of it, he would 
set them right, but good opinions were of very little in- 
terest or real value to him. 

And here the writer would record what he deems the 
effect, upon Mr. Webster, of the Baltimore Whig nomina- 
tion for President. He was, indeed, by far the greatest 
of all the candidates brought forv/ard by his party, and 
though his defeat must have caused some disappointment, 
he never for a single moment manifested any regret. He 
told the writer, on one occasion, that his friends had done 
all they could do for him, and he was satisfied ; and then 
added, with a tremulous voice and tears in his eves, 
" Thank God, one thing' is certain, they could not take 
aivay from me what I have done for my country V' Of 
both the gentlemen who were nominated, the writer has 
heard him speak in terms of praise. Of Greneral Scott, as 
a military man, he spoke in the highest terms, and said 
that Congress ought long ago to have made him a lieu- 
tenant general. Greneral Pierce, he said, he had known 
from boyhood, and all his family, and in spite of some hard 
things which " Frank" (for so he designated him) had ut- 
tered against him some years ago, he was compelled to 
like him, to think him a good fellow, a smarter man than 



64 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

people thought him to be, and wished him all prosperity. 
He was undoubtedly far more cheerful and happy after 
the nomination than he had been immediately before. 
With the convention alluded to terminated all his anxie- 
ties, and it is certain that he had of late been more anxious 
about quietly and faithfully performing his duties, both 
private and public, and preparing for the future, than about 
any thing else connected with this world. 

Many were the delightful rides which the writer had 
the happiness to enjoy with Mr. "Webster along the Mer- 
rimack Yalley, and around and over the picturesque hills 
of his native Salisbury ; and it is with unfeigned pleas- 
ure that the waiter remembers the fact that he was with 
him when he took his last ride over his farm, and visited 
for the last time the place of his birth. It was after a 
night of showers and a most charming day, we went in 
an easy double carriage, and the writer held the reins. 
He was personally acquainted with almost every body we 
met, and not only did he stop and exchange a word of 
kindness with his old friends, but he also bade me pull up 
the horses whenever he met a party of little children go- 
ing to school or gathering berries, so that he might loving- 
ly inquire their names and ask after their parents. He 
was in fine spirits, and seemed to be delighted with the 
singing of the birds, which positively seemed anxious to 
manifest their gladness at his presence. But alas ! those 
sweet and much-loved sounds will never again greet his 
ear. He looked with a critical eye upon all the fields 
and gardens, and every bit of scenery that we saw, fit for 
a picture, he expatiated upon most eloquently. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 65 

We rode through a part of the village of Boscawen, and 
he pointed out the spot where he went to school in his 
fourteenth year, and where he subsequently first became 
acquainted with G-race Fletcher (his first wife), whom he 
mentioned at that time, and always mentioned, as the 
" mother of his children." To her he was married in the 
summer of 1807, and she died in the city of New York in 
1827. ' The visit to the spot of his birth was pleasant but 
mournful. We drank a cup of water together out of the 
old well, and it was with subdued feelings that he walk- 
ed over the sod where he sported in childhood, and talked 
in the most affectionate manner of the olden times. As 
the writer has elsewhere remarked, the house in ivMch he 
was horn is not now standing, and it is due to the writer 
to state that the only authentic view of that house with 
the neighboring elm and well is the one which the writer 
drew, while Mr. Webster was bending over his shoulder, 
and an engraving from which embellishes this volume. 
The engraving which was published in the six-volume 
edition of his v/orks represents the property adjoining 
that of the real birth-place, and was engraved by mistake, 
or, at any rate, without Mr. Webster's sanction. The au- 
thentic drawing was given to the engraver, but he strange- 
ly thought proper to substitute the handsome but false 
picture for the homely but accurate one. 

Another place that we visited was the Big Pasture, so 
called, which belonged to Mr. Webster, and where he was 
then keeping about one hundred head of splendid cattle. 
The pasture contained nearly four hundred acres, and from 
the highest point there is a fine prospect of the White 



66 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

Mountains. To see Mr. Webster in his regular farming 
suit, and with his white slouched hat on his head and a 
stick in his hand, walking among his cattle, which were 
collected together for his inspection, was indeed an inter- 
esting and beautiful sight. A stranger would have taken 
him for a stalwart drover or butcher selling or purchasing 
stock ; while in reality he was the master-mind of the 
world. The writer was also privileged to wet a line for 
trout, while Mr. "Webster sat in his carriage and looked on, 
in Punch-brook, upon which are located both the birth- 
place' and the Big Pasture, and which empties into the 
Merrimack at Elms Farm. 

We also took a drive around Lake Como, which is a 
beautiful sheet of pure w^ater, distant from the farm some 
three miles, about two miles long, and surrounded with 
a handsomely-cultivated country. The lake abounds in 
perch and pike ; and, of course, Mr. Webster ever had a 
fish-house there, and a boat in which he was accustomed 
to enjoy, and permit his friends to enjoy, the pleasant rec- 
reation of ansflins:. On the borders of this lake we halted 
before a nice country house, flanked by a nobla farm, when 
Mr. Webster sent in for its master; and on his appear- 
ance, introduced him to the writer as his " vei'p ivorthy 
nephew P The person thus introduced wa^ a tall, thin 
man, who looked as if nature had formed him of its tough- 
est sinews, and browned him with the hues of the most 
substantial health. The nephew returned the civilities 
of his distinguished uncle in a plain, blunt manner, but 
with affection : and little did he believe that the mere fact 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 67 

of his being thus connected would elevate him, in many 
parts of the country, into a decided lion. 

We also visited the junction of those two mountain 
streams which form the Merrimack. The scenery at this 
point is wild and romantic ; and as the immediate banks 
of the main river as you descend are rank with vegeta- 
tion, and all the interval lands highly cultivated, and the 
residences of the farmers all neat and comfortable, a ride 
of half a dozen miles down the river is indescribably beau- 
tiful ; and when enjoyed with such a companion, who rec- 
ognized an old friend in every tree and stone, the reader 
may well imagine that the pleasure was unalloyed. By 
the writer it can certainly never be forgotten. 



PRIVATE LIFE OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 69 



MARSHFIELD. 

The birth-place and mountain farm of Mr. Webster 
having already been described in this volumCj the v^riter 
would now give an account of Marshfield, the home, pre- 
eminently, of the distinguished statesman. The place 
thus designated is in the town of Marshfield, county of 
Plymouth,' and State of Massachusetts. It is more of a 
magnificent farm, with elegant appendages, than the mere 
elegant residence of a gentleman; a place, indeed, which, 
if in England, could hardly be described without frequent 
use of the word baronial. It lies some thirty miles from 
Boston, comprehends about two thousand acres of undu- 
lating and marshy land, and slopes down to the margin 
of the ocean. The original owners of the land, now com- 
bined into one estate, were Nathaniel Ray Thomas, a 
noted Loyalist, who was the hero of Trumbull's poem of 
M'Fingal, and the famous Winslow family, which has 
given to Massachusetts, as colony and state, a number of 
her early governors. It came into Mr. Webster's posses- 
sion somew"here about twenty-five years ago, and is the 
domain where he chiefly gratified his taste for, and exhib- 
ited his knowledge of, the interesting science of agricul- 
ture. The great good that he here accomplished in that 
particular can hardly be estimated ; but for all the pains 
and trouble which the place has cost him, the proprietor 



70 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

was amply rewarded by tlie fact that he was the owner 
of one of the very best farms in the whole country. 

Like Elms Farm, Marshfield has also its tenant or su- 
perintendent, whose name is Porter WrigKt, and who, in 
all particulars, is amply qualified for his responsible posi- 
tion. From him we gathered the information that when 
Mr. Webster came to Marshfield the farm yielded only 
"some fifteen tons of English hay, while the product in 
this particular, during the year 1851, amounted to nearly 
four hundred tons, in addition to two hundred tons of salt 
hay ; also, of corn eight hundred bushels, potatoes one 
thousand bushels, oats five hundred bushels, turnips five 
hundred bushels, and beets four hundred bushels. In 
1825, the inhabitants of Plymouth county knew nothing 
of kelp and sea-weed as articles that would enrich their 
lands ; but Mr. Webster discovered their value, set the ex- 
ample of using them, profited thereby, and they are now 
considered so indispensable that some of the farmers in the 
country will team it a distance of thirty miles.^- Princi- 
pally at his own expense, Mr. Webster laid out a road to 
the beach on which the kelp was thrown by the sea ; and 
not a single ton of the article is known to have been drawn 
on land before he went to Marslifield. In October of last 
year, one hundred and fifty teams were employed after a 
storm in drawing this rich manure on to the estates ad- 
joining Marshfield, exclusive of those engaged by Mr. Por- 
ter Wright. And some of Mr. Webster's neighbors allege 
that they could well afford to give him five tons of hay a 
year for having taught them the use of ocean manure. In 
olden times, too, it was but precious seldom that the trav- 



D A N I E L W E B S T E R, 71 

eler's eye fell upon any but a wood-colored house in the 
vicinity of Marshfield' Farm, while now neatly-painted 
dwellings may be seen in every direction, and many of 
their occupants acknowledge that Mr. Webster not only 
helped them to make money by giving them employment, 
but also taught them how to make themselves comforta- 
ble. Some of them, indeed, go so far as to say, that if the 
town of Marshfield had made Mr. Webster a present of 
thirty^ thousand dollars, they would only have rendered an 
adequate return for his agricultural services. He not only 
Hught them how to enrich their soils, but in stocking his 
own farm with the very best of blooded cattle, he also, 
with a liberal hand, scattered them upon the farms of his 
neighbors. 

^Ind:eed,Jhe raising of fine cattle was Mr. Webster's ag- 
ricultural hobbv, and it was a rare treat to take a walk 
with him over his grazing fields, or through the spacious 
yards adjoining his overflowing barns, and to hear him 
descant upon the goodness and beauty of his Alderney 
cows, with their gazelle eyes, or the brilliant color of his 
Devon oxen, and contrasting their excellences with those 
which distinguish the breeds of Hertfordshire and Ayrshire. 
A better judge of cattle than he was not to be found any 
where ; and though his stables were abundantly supplied 
with horses, for these he entertained no uncommon attach- 
ment ; but then, again, for sheep and swine he had a par- 
tiality. Of the latter animal he once raised a single litter 
of twelve, which were all entirely white, and when killed 
averaged in weight no less than four hundred pounds. 
And those who have a passion for the oddities of the quad- 



72 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

ruped world, might, by taking a short walk into a pajtic- 
ular field, have a sight of several South American lamas, 
which helped to give a romantic character to the farm. 
And when the reader comes to add to the foregoing three 
varieties of geese, ducks of all kinds, domesticated in this 
country, Gruinea hens, peacocks, and Chinese poultry to 
an almost unlimited extent, he may well imagine that the 
living animals of Marshfield compose a " cattle show" of 
no common order. 

The mind that had the good sense to enrich Marshfield 
Farm with so much of the useful and interestins^ also cov- 
ered it with the results of the most refined taste. The flow- 
er-garden, for example, covers nearly an acre of ground, 
and contains the richest and most beautiful varieties of; / 
plants peculiar to the country. Of forest trees, too, there 
is a multitudinous array, of every size and every variety ; 
and it has been estimated that at least one hundred thou- 
sand of them have grown to their present size from seeds 
planted by Mr. Webster's own hands ; for, as he has often 
said, when he originally came to Marshfield, he was too 
poor a man to think of patronizing such establishments as 
nurseries, even if they had existed to any extent. Of fruit- 
trees there is also an extensive collection ; and while one 
orchard contains some three hundred trees, that remind 
one of the Pilgrim fathers, so weather-beaten and worn in 
their attire are they, another, of a thousand trees, presents 
the appearance of an army of youthful warriors ; and then 
the farm is so appropriately intersected with roads and 
avenues, gravelly walks and shady pathways, that every 
thing which the visitor notices seems to be in exactly the 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 73 

right place, and is so completely come-at-able that the 
idea of being fatigued never enters the mind ; and how 
pre-eminently was this the case when the visitor was ac- 
companied in his walks by the ruling spirit of that place 
as well as of the country itself But the value and picto- 
rial beauty of Marshfield are greatly enhanced by the ex- 
istence, in the immediate vicinity of the mansion, of a trio 
of little lakes, all of them fed by springs of the purest 
water. The two smaller ones are the favorite haunts of 
the common geese and the duclc tribes ; but the larger 
one, which studs the landscape very charmingly, is the 
exclusive domain of a large flock of wild geese which Mr. 
"Webster had domesticated. He informed the writer that 
his first attempts to tame these beautiful creatures were 
all unsuccessful, until the idea occurred to him that per- 
haps they might be made contented with their civilized 
abode, provided they could have awarded to them small 
sedgy islands, such as were found at their breeding-places 
in the far north, where they might make their nests and 
remain undisturbed by the fox and other prowling ani- 
mals. The experiment was tried ; and while the geese 
were rendered contented with their lot, the lake itself has 
been greatly improved in picturesque beauty by its wild 
yet artificial islands. Indeed, the rural scenery of Marsh- 
field is all that could be desired by the painter or poet ; 
but when they come to add thereto an immense expanse 
of marsh land, veined with silver streams, dotted with isl- 
ands of unbroken forest, skirted with a far-reaching beach, 
and bounded by the blue ocean, they can not but be deep- 
ly impressed with the magnificence of its scenery. 

D 



74 PRIVATELIFEOF 

It now becomes necessary to mention the buildings of 
Marshfield Farm. They number some two or three dozen, 
at the least calculation, embracing the mansion and adjoin- 
ing out-houses, the residence of the chief tenant, the dairy- 
man's cottage, the fisherman's house, the landlord's agri- 
cultural office, several large barns, the gardener's house, 
and a variety of subordinate buildings. But the chief at- 
traction is the mansion itself ; the main part of it was built 
in 1774, but it has been more than doubled in size since 
then, and now appears like a modern establishment. It 
stands upon the summit of a grassy lawn, is partly over- 
shadowed by a stupendous elm, and is completely surround- 
ed with a piazza. The ground floor alone contains no less 
than nine handsomely furnished rooms, all opening into 
each other, the largest and most westerly one being a Goth- 
ic library. Pictures, pieces of statuary, choice engravings, 
and curiosities of every description, are displayed in the 
greatest profusion, and the feminine taste every v/here man- 
ifested gives a peculiar interest to the whole establishment. 
Among the more prominent art attractions are portraits of 
Mr. Webster, by Stuart and Healey ; one of Lord Ashbur- 
ton, by Healey; one of Judge Story, by Harding; portraits 
of Fletcher Webster and wife ; one of the late Edward 
Webster ; a Roman girl, by Alexander ; cattle pieces, by 
Fisher ; marble busts of Mr. Webster himself and of Mr. 
Prescett, and a bust and very beautiful crayon drawing of 
" Julia," the late Mrs. Appleton. The last-mentioned por- 
trait took a most powerful hold upon the writer's imagin- 
ation from the moment he first beheld it ; and this im- 
pression was greatly strengthened by discovering that the 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 75 

spirit of this departed daughter, and most lovely, gifted, 
and accomplished woman, seemed to pervade the entire 
dwelling, where she had been the joy of many hearts. To 
her was Mr. Webster indebted for his library, as it now 
appears, for it was built after her own design ; and a more 
delightful place, especially when Mr. Webster was pres- 
ent, seated in his arm-chair, and in a talkative mood, could 
not be easily imagined. Mr. Webster's entire collection 
of books has been valued at forty thousand dollars ; but 
his law library is in Boston ; his agi'icultural and natural 
history library in a small office building, situated in one 
corner of the Marshfield garden ; while the miscellaneous 
library is alone collected in the G-othic library hall. But 
the works here found are all of a standard and substantial 
character, as the following specimens will show ; for here 
are to be seen Audubon's Birds of America; the Encyclo- 
psedia Britannica ; the best editions of Bacon, Washing- 
ton, and Franklin ; all the dictionaries that were ever 
heard of ; every thing good in the way of history and po- 
etry, together with an extensive sprinkling of the old di- 
vines. And so much for a general description of Marsh- 
field. 

Of the many choice relics which adorn the mansion at 
Marshfield, there is not one that Mr. Webster valued more 
highly, or descanted upon with more feeling and affection 
than a small profile, cut in black, and handsomely framed, 
which is thus described in his own writing : 

*'My excellent Mother." 
"D. W." 



76 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

The likeness is that of a highly intellectual person, and 
bears a striking resemblance to Mr. Webster. 

Directly in front of the Marshfield mansion, in a sunny 
and pleasant locality, are two small elm-trees, which were 
planted by Mr. AVebster to the memory of his children, 
Julia and Edward. The ceremony of their planting was 
as follows : Mr. Webster had been missing from his study 
for an hour or more, when he suddenly made his appear- 
ance before his son Fletcher with two small trees and a 
shovel in his hand, and summoned his attendance. He 
then walked to the spot already designated, and, having 
dug the holes, and planted the trees without any assist- 
ance, he handed the shovel to Fletcher, and remarked, in 
a subdued voice, as he turned away, " 3Ii/ son, jjrotect 
these trees after I am gone ; let them ever remi?id you 
of Julia and EdwardP 

Those who knew Mr. Webster best say that he has been 
a changed man since the death of these children. 

The oldest house now known to be standing on the soil 
of Massachusetts is said to be the one originally built and 
occupied by several generations of the Winslow family ; 
and this stands upon a lot comprehended in Mr. Webster's 
farm. It is an aristocratic-looking place ; and, though 
weather-beaten and worn, applications are frequently 
made to rent it, but the proprietor respects it for its an- 
tiquity and associations, and, with characteristic taste, 
ever preferred to have it remain in a kind of poetic solitude. 

Amono: the choice relics which enrich the Marshfield 
library is the collection of thirteen silver medals which 
were voted to General Washington by the old Congress. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 77 

and which, long after his death, were purchased by Mr. 
Webster of a branch of the Washington family. The read- 
er will probably remember that these medals were offered 
to Congress with a view of having them deposited in the 
National Library, and that a committee, of which the Hon. 
Edward Everett was chairman, strongly recommended 
their purchase at almost any price. Strange as it may 
seem, a heavy debate arose out of this proposition. Just 
at this time, it so happened that Mrs. Webster was deliber- 
ating about the purchase of a Cashmere shawl, when Mr. 
Webster suggested that she should, for the time being, go 
without the shawl, and that the money thus saved should 
be invested in the Washino:ton medals. Mrs. Webster 
most joyfully assented, and in a very quiet way the med- 
als were transferred into his possession. In the mean 
time, the conclave of wise men in the forum were debat- 
ing the propriety of paying a trifling tribute to the mem- 
ory of Washington ; and, after exhausting their learning, 
and about one week of their valuable time, they concluded 
to purchase the medals, and were dumbfounded to find 
them altogether beyond their reach. 

It comes not within the province of the writer to de- 
scribe these thirteen medals in detail ; but, as he learned 
from Mr. Webster that the 7'everse side of the principal 
one was partially designed by AVashington himself, the 
following description is submitted: 

Occasion. — Evacuation of Boston by the British troops. 

Device. — The head of G-eneral Washington in profile. 

Legend. — G-eorgio Washington, supremo duci exerci- 
tum adsertori libertatis comitia Americana, 



78 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

Reverse. — Troops advancing toward a town which is 
seen at a distance ; troops marching to the river ; ships in 
view; G-enerai Washington in front, and mounted, with 
his staff, whose attention he is directing to the embarking 
enemy. 

Legend. — Hostibus primo Fugatis. 

Exergue. — Bostonium recuperatum 17 Martii, 1776. 

The fittest of all men which this country has produced 
was Daniel "Webster to inherit these testimonials of hon- 
or awarded to G-eorge Washington, for, in regard to pa- 
triotism and true greatness, these men were like twin- 
brothers. 

Chief, in regard to age at any rate, among Mr. Web- 
ster's retainers at Marshfield is his friend Seth Peterson, 
whom he once mentioned in a speech as the author of an 
argument he had been uttering on the price of labor, and 
whom he designated as " sometime farmer and sometime 
fisherman on the coast of Massachusetts." A stout, 
brawny, sensible, jovial man is this "Ancient Mariner of 
Marshfield," whose home, jyar excellence, is Mr. AVebster's 
beautiful yacht Lapiving. The twain have been boon 
companions for about twenty-five years ; and the bays, 
and inlets, and headlands of Massachusetts Bay were as 
familiar to them both as the best fishino^-sfrounds are to 
one, and the fields of learning w^ere to the other. And 
Seth Peterson is a good shot withal, and during the duck 
and snipe shooting season was ever the constant attendant 
of Mr. Webster, as also when he occasionallv went forth 
into a belt of forest-land, stretching parallel with the sea- 
coast of Plymouth county, for the purpose of killing a deer, 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 79 

which feat was sometimes accomplished before a late 
breakfast hour. As Mr. Webster was an early riser, he 
had a standing order that when he was at Marshfield, Seth 
Peterson should have the very first interview with him, 
and, while this was obeyed as a duty and considered a com- 
pliment, it resulted in a systematic arrangement for the 
day's sporting. The grace with which Mr. Webster was 
in the habit of doing every thing was as conspicuous in a 
fishing expedition as at a dinner-party or a diplomatic 
interview. He had a decided eye for the picturesque in 
all things, but especially manifested it in his costume ; 
and it was exceedingly pleasant to observe the kindness 
of heart which he invariably manifested, when, on return- 
ing to his fish-house from a morning excursion far out at 
sea, he proceeded to parcel out his cod-fish and mackerel 
or tautog to his rustic neighbors. But those who would 
be made fully acquainted with Mr. Webster's many ami- 
able qualities and his skill as a fisherman must consult 
Seth Peterson. 

And, by-the-way, those who are in doubt as to the ex- 
istence of a great sea-serpent may be pleased to know 
that the testimony of both Mr. Webster and his Skipper 
is on the side of the afiirmative of this question. They 
both allege that they once saw some living animal an- 
swering to the popular description of this creature ; and 
Mr. Webster informed the writer that a drawing, taken of 
one caught in Plymouth Bay, was pronounced by the nat- 
uralists of Boston a miniature resemblance of an animal 
found on the coast of Norway, near the great whirlpool, 
and delineated by Pontoppidam in his history of Norway. 



80 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

The writer was once enjoying a morning walk with Mr. 
Wehster over his Marshfield grounds, when we were joined 
by a Boston gentleman who came to pay his respects 
to the statesman. Hardly had we proceeded a hundred 
yards before a flock of quails ran across the road, when 
the stranger worked himself into an intense excitement, 
and exclaimed, " Oh, if I only had a gun, I could easily 
kill the whole flock ; have you not one in your house, 
sir ?" Mr. Webster very calmly replied that he had a 
number of guns, but that no man whatsoever was ever 
permitted to kill a quail or any other bird, a rabbit or a 
squirrel, on any of his property. He then went on to 
comment upon the slaughtermg propensities of the Amer- 
ican people, remarking that in this country there was an 
almost universal passion for killing and eating every wild 
animal that chanced to cross the pathway of man ; while 
in England and other portions of Europe these animals 
were kindly protected and valued for their companionship. 
" This is to me a great mystery," said he ; " and, so far 
as my influence extends, the birds shall be protected ;" 
and just at this moment one of the quails already men- 
tioned mounted a little knoll, and poured forth a few of 
its sweet and peculiar notes, when he continued, " There ! 
does not that gush of song do the heart a thousand-fold 
more good than could possibly be derived from the death 
of that beautiful bird !" The stransrer thanked Mr. Web- 
ster for his reproof, and subsequently informed the writer 
that this little incident had made him love the man whom 
he had before only admired as a statesman. 

The last timp. but one that Mr. Webster visited the spot 



DANIEL WEBSTER. Ql 

where he had decreed that his remains should repose, the 
oTm ' Z7^'" "f ^ companion. The tomb is on tlae soil 
of Marshfield, and was prepared for himself and family at 
a cost of one thousand dollars. It occupies the summit 
of a commanding hill, overlooking the ocean and the site 
of he first church ever built in the town of Marshfield, 
and IS inclosed with an iron paling. When the writer 
visited this sacred spot, in company with Mr. Webster, the 
only words that he uttered during the visit were uttered 

a! MoTf"' '° *^ *°"' ^"'^ '"^^ ^~-'^' -<i were 
J, Zf 7"^ *' 7 '''""''' ""^ ''''' ^^'-"^ monuments 

one each for Juha and Edward, and there will be plenty 
of room ^n front for the little ones that mustfoUoro them'' 

The monuments alluded to above have been erected. 
They are simple columns, about four feet high, restin<. on 

a^rri:"^^^^^'^"*™-^'^- ^--^^^ 

"Grace Webster, 
Wife of Daniel Webster i 

Bom January 16, 1781 ; 

Died January 21st, 1828 

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God^ 

"Julia Webster, 

Wife of 

Samuel Appleton Appleton ; 

Born January 16, 1818; 

Died April 18, 1848. 

Let me go, for the day breaketh " 

D2 



82 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

"Major Edward Webster: 

Born July 28, 1820^; 

Died at San Angel, in Mexico, 

In the military service of his country, 

January 23d, 1848. 

A dearly beloved son and brother.''^ 

At the back of the family hurial-plot is the tomb, of 
rousfh-hewn. massive oranite. The floor lies six feet be- 
low the natural level of the site, and the roof rises as far, 
but is covered with a luxuriant sod, forming a green 
mound. Nothing can be more simple than the whole ap- 
pearance of this sepulchre. The only thing which would 
distinguish it as a place of unusual interest is, the small, 
plain marble slab over the door, on which are inscribed in 
bold characters the revered name of 

DANIEL WEBSTER. 



I 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 83 



TRAITS OF PERSONAL CHARACTER. 

Under the above heading, it is proposed to exhibit some 
of the phases of Mr. Webster's character, by a series of dis- 
connected paragraphs, which were recorded, in a note-book 
kept for the purpose, as time and chance determined. And 
for his own sake, the writer would again remind the reader 
that he is not writing a systematic biography ; and though 
this may be termed a " disjointed chat of his," it is hoped 
that the lessons and information attending his plain un- 
varnished facts may not be the less welcome to those who 
were unacquainted with Mr. Webster. 

As he attained to his prominent position chiefly by 
means of his own exertions, it is reasonable to conclude 
that he was always a hard-working man. All who knew 
him, knew this to be a fact. Because he w^as a man of 
giant intellect, and had to do with the greater national 
questions of the day, it has been supposed that his busi- 
ness habits were not plain and practical. This is a great 
mistake, and the writer will endeavor to prove the con- 
trary, by sketching his habits while attending to his offi- 
cial duties as Secretary of State. 

He was usually among the first at his post of duty in 
the department, and among the last to leave. The first 
business he attended to was to read his mail, and this he 
accomplished in a short time, and after a peculiar manner. 



84 PRIVATELlFikOF 

The only letters that he read with attention were the offi- 
cial ones, and, where the questions they brought up did 
not require investigation, were generally disposed of im- 
mediately ; all political letters were merely glanced at, 
and then filed away for future consideration ; those of a 
private and personal character were also laid aside, to be 
attended to or answered early on the following morning, 
at his residence ; while every thing of an anonymous char- 
acter was simply opened, torn in two pieces, and commit- 
ted to the basket of waste paper. The amount of busi- 
ness that he sometimes transacted durinof a sinsrle morn- 
ing may be guessed at when it is mentioned that he not 
unfrequently kept two persons employed writing at his 
dictation at the same time ; for, as he usually walked the 
floor on such occasions, he would give his chief clerk a 
sentence in one room to be incorporated in a diplomatic 
paper, and, marching to the room occupied by his private 
secretary, give him the skeleton, or perhaps the very lan- 
guage, of a private note or letter. In addition to all this, 
he made it his business to grant an audience to all who 
might call upon him, receiving dignitaries with dignity, 
and all friends, strangers, and even office-seekers, with 
kindness and cordiality ; and, in this connection, it may 
be well to state that those who made short visits were 
generally the most successful in attaining their ends, es- 
pecially if said ends were " their countrifs^^^ or office. 

As touching his deportment toward his subordinates in 
office, it was invariably of the most agreeable character. 
It was his law that every man should both know and do 
his duty ; but he treated them all as if ho knew them to 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 85 

be possessed of feelings as sensitive as his own. The con- 
sequence was that every man in his department was a 
warm personal friend. 

It was ever his habit, on all proper occasions, to attend 
to the legitimate duties of his position, either as lawyer, 
as statesman, or diplomatist ; but he had a rule of long 
standing, which prohibited the introduction, by his friends 
and neighbors, of all political topics when visiting him in 
his retirement. "When at Elms Farm, they might talk to 
him about the scenery, the legends, the history, the crops, 
and the trout of the Merrimack Valley ; and when at 
Marshfield, they might talk about the ocean and its finny 
tribes, of all the manifold pleasures of agriculture, of lit- 
erature, and the arts ; but they must, if they would please 
him, keep silent on all the topics, without exception, which 
make mad the politicians of the day. Though it has been 
his fortune to figure extensively in the political history of 
the country, it is firmly believed that his affections have 
ever been far removed from all such vanities. The neces- 
sities of his country and his ideas of duty alone made him 
a politician. 

" What little I have accomplished," Mr. Webster once 
said, " has been done early in the morning." Like nearly 
all those men who occupy prominent positions before the 
world, he was always an early riser. If on either of his 
farms, he literally rose with the lark, and went forth to en- 
joy the quiet companionship of his cattle ; and if in the 
city, especially in Washington, he was up before the sun, 
and among the first visitors to the market, where he not 
only attended to the necessary duty of supplying his table, 



86 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

but also enjoyed the conversation of the various rural char- 
acters whom he met there, and with whom it was his 
pleasure to he on intimate terms. As his habit of early 
rising and going to market was known, many citizens, 
who had not otherwise an opportunity of seeing him, em- 
braced these morning occasions of meeting him. 

The time intervening between his morning walk and 
the hour of breakfast was always devoted to business, to 
the writing of letters, marking out patches for foreign gov- 
ernments, or unraveling the knotty political questions of 
the day. 

There are very few men in this or any other country 
who possess the faculty of winning and keeping personal 
friends to as great an extent as did Mr. Webster. So sim- 
ple and unpretending was he in his manners, and so kind- 
hearted and affectionate, that those who were privileged 
to know him intimately had their admiration greatly in- 
creased, and learned to love him with a devoted affection. 
^ That office-seekers should have entertained an opinion ad- 
verse to the above is not surprising, for his most devoted 
friends would not have the hardihood to assert that he had 
an unconquerable affection for this class of amiable gen- 
tlemen. On the contrary, he undoubtedly disliked them, 
as would any other public man who had been bothered 
by them for nearly half a century. The truth is, he did 
not treat them oftentimes with the severity they deserved ; 
and there are a far greater number of instances to be men- 
tioned of his giving offices to poor men than of his turning 
the cold shoulder to those whose chief ambition was to 
cut a dash. He was beyond all question as much a man 



DANIEL WEBSTER, , 87 

of feeling as a man of intellect, and the writer has yet to 
learn the name of the first man, woman, or child who ever 
knew Mr. Webster and did not love him. 

For a great many years past, Mr. "Webster had a regular 
law office in the city of Boston, and supplied with a valu- 
able library of five or six thousand volumes, which was, 
however, for the most part, in the keeping of a law part- 
ner. In alluding to this fact on one occasion, he informed 
the writer that it was with the utmost difficulty that he 
could ever bring himself to attend to any legal business 
when sojourning at either of his country residences. "It 
not unfrequently happens," said he, "that people come to 
me just as I am about to leave Boston for Marshfield, with 
the request that I shall attend to their suits. I decline 
the business, and they insist upon my taking it in hand. 
I take their papers, put them in my green hag^ and de- 
termine that I will attend to their cases w^hen at Marsh- 
field. When arrived at this place, my mind becomes so 
taken up with its manifold enjoyments that I forget all 
about the green bag, unless there happens to come a rainy 
day. In that event I sometimes look at the musty pa- 
pers ; but it is not unfrequently the case that the bag 
travels from Boston to the sea-shore, and thence to the 
mountains and back again, without ever being disturbed. 
The truth is, you can not mention the fee which I value 
half as much as I do a morning walk over my farm, the 
sight of a dozen yoke of my oxen furrowing one of my 
fields, or the breath of my cows, and the pure ocean 



air." 



In view of his apparent carelessness of time and oppor- 



88 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

tunities, with what astonishment do we all look upon the 
recorded efforts of his brain ! y 

Mr. Webster once remarked to the writer that no man 
could become eminent in any profession, and especially in 
the law, without the hardest and most laborious study ; 
and, whatever of genius may be awarded to him, it is cer- 
tain that he is chiefly indebted to his own personal exer- 
tions for his late commanding position as an orator, a 
statesman, a jurist, and a man of letters. He was ever 
in the habit of performing all his duties, official and pri- 
vate, like a downright business man ; indeed, the entire 
story of his life proves him to have been at all times a 
practical man. Twenty-five years ago, for example, he 
was acknowledged to be one of the most, if not the most 
efficient laborer in the useful and arduous toils of the 
Congressional committee-rooms, and of practical legisla- 
tion ; and the country was indebted to him for not a few 
of the important improvements in our laws. The most 
remarkable is probably the Crimes Act of 1825, which, in 
twenty-six sections, did so much for the criminal code of 
the country. The whole subject, when he approached it, 
was full of difficulties and deficiencies. The law in rela- 
tion to it remained substantially on the foundation of the 
act of 1790 ; and that, though deserving praise as a first 
attempt to meet the wants of the country, was entirely 
unsuited to its condition, and deficient in many important 
particulars. Its defects were immense and manifold, but 
Mr. Webster's act, which, as a just tribute to his exertions, 
bears his name, cured all those defects, and alone gave 
him the title of a humane benefactor of mankind. It is 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 89 

said that no man at that time but Mr. Webster, who, in 
addition to his patient habits of labor in the committee- 
room, possessed the general confidence of the House, and 
had a persevering address and promptitude in answering 
objections, could have succeeded in so signal an under- 
taking. _^ 

No man in the country was more fond of out-door recre- ) 
ations than Mr. Webster. He had no taste or fondness 
for in-door amusements. He never played a game of ,i 
chess, or checkers, or billiards, or ten-pins, in his life; and; 
it is said that he was equally ignorant of cards, unless it 
was whist, a game which he would play with ladies and 
gentlemen on a winter evening for an hour or so. To out- 
door sports he has always been addicted, and to this man- 
ly taste he was unquestionably indebted for the robust con- 
stitution of his manhood. In his childhood and youth he 
was far from strong ; indeed, he was supposed to possess 
a feeble constitution. There are letters in existence writ- 
ten from one friend to another, in which it was frequent- 
ly stated that young Webster would be likely consigned 
to an early grave, for he appeared like one inclined to con- 
sumption. 

Mr. Webster admired, above all things, to see the sun 
rise, especially from his chamber window at Marshfield. 
He appreciated the moral sublimity of the spectacle, and 
it ever seemed to fill his mind with mighty conceptions. 
On many occasions, at sunrise, both in the spring and au- 
tumn, has he stolen into the chamber occupied by the 
Writer, which looked upon the sea, and, with only his 
dressing-gown on, has stood by his bedside and startled 



90 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

the writer out of a deep sleep, by a loud shout somewhat 
to this effect : / 

"Awake ! sluggard, and look upon this glorious scene, 
for the sky and the ocean are enveloped in flames !" 

On one occasion the writer was awakened in a similar 
manner at a very early hour, when, lo ! Mr. Webster, 
who happened to be in a particularly playful mood, was 
seen going through the graceful motions of an angler, 
throwing a fly and striking a trout, and then, without 
speaking a word, disappeared. As a matter of course, that 
day was given to fishing. 

Much has been said and written about Mr. Webster's ex- 
travagance and negligence in money matters. He was not, 
indeed, a worshiper of Mammon ; or, if the world will have 
it so, he knew not the value of money. But what matter ! 
He never defrauded a neighbor, and he scorned, above all 
others, the character of a miser. He made money with 
ease, and spent it without reflection. He had accounts 
with various banks, and men of all parties were always 
glad to accommodate him with loans, if he wanted them. 
He kept no record of his deposits, unless it were on slips 
of paper hidden in his pockets ; these matters were gen- 
erally left with his secretary. His notes were seldom or 
never regularly protested, and when they were, they 
caused him an immense deal of mental anxiety. When 
the writer has sometimes drawn a check for a couple of 
thousand dollars, he has not even looked at it, but packed 
it away in his pockets, like so much waste paper. During 
his long professional career, he earned money enough to 
make a dozen fortunes, but he spent it liberally, and gave 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 9i 

it away to the poor by hundreds and thousands. Begging 
letters from women and unfortunate men were received 
by him ahuost daily, at certain periods, and one instance 
is remembered where, on six successive days, he sent re- 
mittances of fifty and one hundred dollars to people with 
whom he was entirely unacquainted. He was indeed 
careless, but strictly and religiously fionest in all his mon- 
ey matters. He knew not how to be otherwise. The last 
fee which he ever received for a single legal argument 
was $11,000; and it is a disgrace to the chivalric city 
of New Orleans that his just demand, amounting to 
$25,000, for his efforts in the great Gaines case remained 
unpaid at the day of his death. 

Mr. Webster was one of the most hospitable of men : 
it always seemed to do his heart good to entertain his 
friends, and he understood the science of hospitality to 
perfection. While at Marshfield, he always had one or 
two guests under his roof, and sometimes a dozen. He 
never consulted them about how they wished to spend the 
day, but made all the arrangements, and then sent them 
or took them where he pleased, knowing well that such 
orders as he might give would be gladly obeyed. If the 
party consisted of six, he would send two of them after 
trout, one to take care of the ladies, and perhaps take the 
three others upon a fishing excursion in his beautiful 
yacht, Captain Peterson. He often took along with him 
some of his grandchildren, evidently for his own pleasure 
as well as theirs. He usually dined at a late hour, say \ (/ 
from four to six, and rarely appeared at the dinner-table 
except in full dress. He was very particular in regard to 



92 PRIVATE LIFE OF^ 

these customs of etiquette, and the writer will never for- 
get the reprimand he received from Mr. Webster for com- 
ing to the table, when his excellency Mr. Crampton was 
present, in a frock-coat. There was a pleasure in the 
sting, however, for it proved the reprover to be a friend. 

No man could be a more devoted lover of nature and 
natural history than Mr. Webster ; and very few were more 
thoroughly versed in its scientific mysteries. There was 
more truth than fancy in the remark which he sometimes 
made, that the world would one of these days be favored 
with a work on the '■^Natural History of 3IarshJie/d,^^ 
from the mouth, in part, of Seth Peterson, and edited by 
Daniel Webster. Notes for such a work have really been 
made for many years past, and it is to be hoped the idea 
was not abandoned. Mr. Webster was ever in the habit 
of cultivating the acquaintance of naturalists, and Audu- 
bon was one of his warm personal friends. He thought 
every thing of the great ornithologist, and frequently in- 
vited him to Marshfield. On one occasion, when Mr. Au- 
dubon was there, he was presented by Mr. Webster with 
a wagon-load of miscellaneous birds, which the latter had 
ordered to be killed by his hunters all along the coast, and 
amonsf them was the identical Canada Goose which fisr- 
ures so beautifully in the "Birds of America." Mr. Web- 
ster has said that the delisfhted naturalist studied the atti- 
tude of that single goose for an entire day, and that he 
was three days in taking its portrait. 

It is well known that Mr. Webster was quite original 
in all his " little ways," as well as his great ones ; but in 
none has he been more so than in his habit of punishing 






DANIEL WEBSTER. 93 

his children. In this particular he acted contrary to the 
Bible, and has spared the rod. Whenever he wished to 
punish one of his boys for misconduct, he summoned him 
into his presence, and, taking both the hands of the offend- 
er in his own, and pressing them with all his strength, 
would simply look sternly into the boy's face for a few 
moments, and let him go without uttering a word. And 
according to Mr. Fletcher AVebster, this happy combina- 
tion of physical force and moral influence never failed 
to make him a better boy, for the eye of his father was 
sure to haunt him many a day thereafter ; and no man 
could wonder at this result who has ever seen that eye 
flashing in the heat of debate. 

About three months before the death of Mr. Webster, 
while he was at Marshfield, among other things which 
had been sent by his direction from his residence at Wash- 
ington, was a late and very fine portrait of himself, by 
Healey. During the day after it was hung, he called his 
little grand-daughter (the eldest child of his beloved 
"Julia"), and, affectionately kissing her, pointed to the 
portrait and said, "That is yours." Early on the morn\ 
ing following, while in his library, he wrote and sealed a ^ 
letter, and sent to the little girl who was in an adjoining 
room awaiting breakfast. The letter was a beautiful one, 
and contained a touching allusion to her " amiable and 
accomplished mother ;" and he expressed the hope that 
she would value the picture when the original was gone, 
&c. It was evidently written with feelings of sadness in 
view of his declining health, and it seemed to be his de- 
sire to seal in writing the fact that the picture was hers, 



94 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

.• lest there might, in the event of his death, be some little 
jealousy of feeling among his grandchildren m appropri- 
ating a relic so valuable. A portrait of himself had once 
been promised by Mr. Webster to her mother. 
"'"On one occasion, when Mr. "Webster was Secretary of 
State, in 1841, he came home from the department, and 
stepping into his front parlor, took down from a mantle- 
piece a very beautifully ornamented basket, hung it upon 
his arm and disappeared. In the course of half an hour 
he returned to the house and handed Mrs. Webster the 
said basket /w// of eggs. She was, of course, very much 
astonished at this development, on account of the inappro- 
priate nature of the deed, and accordingly inquired the 
cause ; when Mr. Webster replied, that he had been all 
the morning discussing with the diplomatic corps the af- 
fairs of some half dozen of the principal kingdoms of the 
world, and, as he was fond of seeing both ends meet, he 
only wished to realize how it would seem for him, a Secre- 
tary of State, to turn from such imposing business to the 
opposite extreme, of purchasing, within the same hour, a 
basket of newly-laid eggs. 

One of the most distinguishing characteristics of Mr. 

J Webster's deportment, when among his friends, was his 
playfulness. When at either of his country residences, 
he was always the first to leave his bed in the morning, 
and often, from that time until breakfast, he made extens- 
ive use of his lungs by shouting and singing, and gener- 
ally concluded his discordant melodies with the remark, 
that if there was any one thing which he understood above 
all others, it was singing. He had a fondness, too, for 



D A N I E L W E B S T E R. 95 

spelling out^n tlie most unheard-of manner the various 
familiar remarks which he had occasion to utter. The 
lowing of a cow or the cawing of a crow has sometimes 
started him, not only to imitate those creatures with his 
own voice, but nearly all the other animals that were ever 
heard of. He was also in the habit, when in a certain 
mood, of grotesquely employing the Grreek, Latin, and 
French languages, with a sprinkling of Yankee and West- 
ern phrases, in familiar conversation ; and he had an amus- 
ing way of conjugating certain proper names, and of de- 
scribing the characters of unknown persons by the mean- 
ing of their names. He was, withal, one of the best story- 
tellers in the world, and every thing he related in that line 
had a good climax. To use the language of one of his 
Boston friends, " he could relate an anecdote with wonder- 
ful effect, and nothing was more easy than for him to ' set 
the table in a roar.' His fund of anecdote and of personal 
reminiscence was inexhaustible. No one could start a 
subject relating to history, and especially to American 
Congressional life, about which he could not relate some 
anecdote connected with some of the principal characters, 
which, when told, would, throw additional light upon the 
narrative, and illustrate some prominent trait in the char- 
acters of the persons engaged in the transaction. This 
great gift he possessed in a degree unsurpassed. Mr. Web- 
ster's ' table-talk' was fully equal to any of his more elab- 
orate efforts in the Senate. He could talk, to use a some- 
what misnomeric expression, as well as he could speak. 
He had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and loved and appre- 
ciated nice touches of eccentric humor. We have many 



96 •PRIVAtE LIFEOF 

reminiscences of his story-telling, for, when at Wash- 
ington, we often had the pleasure of dining at his table. 
On these occasions it was the purpose of those present to 
draw him out ; and to do this, it was but necessary to 
start some topic in which he felt an interest. "We shall 
never forget his account of his visit to Jefferson, at Mon- 
ticello, his analysis of the character and intellectual at- 
tainments of Hamilton, who, he thought, bore a closer re- 
semblance to the younger Pitt than any other man in 
English or American history, and his anecdotes of Chief- 
justice Marshall, and old Mr. Stockton, of New Jersey, and 
of his ride from Baltimore to "Washington in a wagon, with 
a stout, burly fellow, vrho told him he was a robber." 

The last incident alluded to is said to have occurred to 
Mr. Webster before rail-roads were built, as he was forced 
one night to make a journey by private conveyance from 
Baltimore to Washins^ton. The man who drove the wao^on 
was such an ill-looking fellow, and told so many stories 
of robberies and murders, that before they had gone far 
Mr. Webster was almost frightened out of his wits. At 
last the wagon stopped in the midst of a dense wood, when 
the man, turning suddenly round to his passenger, ex- 
claimed fiercely, " Now, sir, tell me who you are !*' Mr. 
Webster replied, in a faltering voice, and ready to spring 
from the vehicle, " I am Daniel Webster, member of Con- 
gress from Massachusetts I" "What!" rejoined the driv- 
er, grasping him warmly by the hand, " are you "VVebster ? 
I Thank God ! thank Grod ! You were such a deuced ugly 
/chap, that I took you for some cut-throat or highwayman." 
This is the substance of the story, but the precise words 



V 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 97 

used by Mr. Webster himself in repeating it are not re- 
membered. 

There is not an artist in the land who has a better eye 
for the picturesque in costume than Mr. Webster. When 
entertaining a party at dinner or holding a levee, he al- 
ways looked the gentlemati superbly ; when out upon a 
fishing excursion, he could not be taken for any thing but 
an angler ; and when on a shooting frolic, he was a gen- 
uine rustic Nimrod. And hereby hangs an incident. He 
was once tramping over the Marshfield meadows, shooting 
ducks with Seth Peterson, when he encountered a couple 
of Boston sporting snobs, who happened to be in trouble 
just then about crossing a bog. Not knowing Mr. Web- 
ster, and believing him to be strong enough to help them 
over the water, they begged to be conveyed to a dry point 
upon his back. The request was of course complied with, 
and after the cockneys had paid him a quarter of a dollar 
each for his trouble, they inquired if '' Old Webster was 
at home," for as they had had poor luck in shooting, they 
would honor him with a call. Mr. Webster replied '' that 
the gentleman alluded to was not at home just then, but 
would be so soon as he could walk to the house, and then 
added that he would be glad to see them at dinner." As 
may be presumed, the cockneys were never seen to cross 
the threshold of " old Webster." 

The Historical Address delivered by Mr. Webster in New 
York in February last has been often pronounced one of 
his happiest efforts. It is certainly the most classical of 
all. The excitement to hear him was very great through- 
out the city, and though the tickets were not originally 

E 



98 



PRIVATE LIFE OF 



purchasable, there were instances in which a hundred dol- 
lars were paid for a single admission. Two hours before 
he was to appear before the most magnificent of audiences, 
Mr. Webster was telling stories at his dinner-table, as un- 
concernedly as if he was only intending to take his usual 
nap. On being questioned as to what he proposed to say, 
he remarked as follows : 

" I am going to be excessively learned and classical, 
and shall talk much about the older citizens of Greece. 
"When I make my appearance in Broadway to-morrow, 
people will accost me thus, ' Grood-morning, Mr. Webster. 
Recently from Greece, I understand ; how did you leave 
Mr. Pericles and Mr. Aristophanes ?' " 

Brilliancy of diction and warmth of color, as it were, in 
Mr. Webster's written and spoken words did involve a want 
of profundity. Wlien you heard him, you pronounced him 
to be emphatically a man of feeling ; when you read his 
speeches, you w^ere not less struck with the faultless pre- 
cision of the reasoning, the unerring accuracy of the de- 
ductions. His chief characteristic, if one quality predom- 
inated over the other, was his earnestness of purpose. 
When Senator Bell, on the memorable seventh of March, 
1850, observed that it was high time the people of this 
country should know what the Constitution was : " Then, 
by the blessing of Heaven," replied Mr. Webster, " they 
shall learn this day, before the sun goes down, w^hat I take 
it to be." There could be no doubt that he was, in the 
language of the old English republicans, " thorough" — 
he felt what he said, felt it deeply, and clothed it in words 
which his hearers conld not help feeling. It is told of one 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 99 

of his bitterest opponents, that during a powerful appeal ' 
of Mr. "Webster to the Senate, he affected to disparage him, i 
and pretended to read a newspaper while the " Expounder" \ 
was poring forth words of fire ; but the flushed cheek and 
trembling hand betrayed the device, and left little room 
for surprise when it was discovered that the newspaper 
was upside down. 

On the day preceding the one on which it was expected / 
that Mr. "Webster would deliver the address of welcome to 
Greneral La Fayette in Boston in 1825, he happened to be 
out in his fishing yacht. Fish were not abundant, and 
his companions were just about giving up in despair, when 
Mr. Webster hooked a very large cod, and just as it ap- 
peared at the top of the water, he exclaimed, in a loud and 
pompous voice, " "Welcome ! all hail I and thrice welcome, 
citizen of two hemispheres !" 

Indeed, Mr. "Webster's sport of angling has given him 
many opportunities for composition — his famous address 
on Bunker Hill having been mostly planned out on Marsh- 
pee Brook ; and it is said that the following exclamation 
was first heard by a couple of huge trout, immediately on 
their being transferred to his fishing-basket, as it subse- 
quently was heard at Bunker Hill by many thousands 
of his fellow-citizens : " Venerable men ! you have come 
down to us from a former generation. Heaven has boun- 
teously lengthened out your lives that you might behold 
this joyous day." 

In this connection the following particulars are worth 
mentioning. "While his mind was greatly occupied with 
the affairs of the nation in the spring of 1851, he was even 



100 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

then in the almost daily habit of wetting a line at the 
Little Falls of the Potomac. His only and constant com- 
panion on these occasions was the writer, for whom he 
was in the habit of calling at the early hour of four in the 
morning. He was always delighted to capture a few rock- 
fish or bass, but if we happened to catch nothing he was 
quite contented, for he enjoyed the fresh air and the ex- 
ercise. As we always returned from the fishing-ground 
before the public offices were opened, he took pleasure in 
congratulating himself with the thought that he had not 
robbed the government of any of its demands upon his time. 
Mr. Webster's attachment to the Bible has already been 
mentioned ; indeed, he loved and he read that priceless 
volume as it ought to be loved and read ; and he once told 
the writer that he could not remember the time when he 
was unable to read a chapter therein. He read it aloud 
to his family on every Sunday morning, and often deliv- 
ered extempore sermons of great power and eloquence. 
He never made a journey without carrying a copy with 
him ; and the writer would testify that he never listened 
to the Story of the Savior, or heard one of the Prophecies 
of Isaiah, when it sounded so superbly eloquent as when 
coming from his lips. Those admitted to the intimacy 
of his conversation alone can tell of the eloquent fervor 
with which he habitually spoke of the inspired writings ; 
how much light he could throw on a difficult text ; how 
much beauty lend to expressions that would escape all but 
the eye of genius ; what new vigor he could give to the 
most earnest thought ; and what elevation even to sub- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 101 

It would be impossible, as C. "W. March has said, for 
any one to listen half an hour to one of his dissertations 
on the Scriptures, and not believe in their inspiration, or 
his. And yet, while his private conversations and public 
productions attest how deeply he was imbued with the 
spirit of the Scriptures, neither the one nor the other ever 
contained the slightest irreverent allusion to any passage 
in them, any thing in the way of illustration, analogy, or 
quotation, which would seem to question their sanctity. 
He was scrupulously delicate in this regard ; and therein 
differed widely from most of his contemporaries in public 
life ; as he read and admired the Bible for its eloquence, 
so did he venerate it for its sacredness. 

And, in continuation of the foregoing, the writer can 
not refrain from quoting the following passage from the 
pen of one, though anonymous, who seems to have fully 
appreciated the correctness of Mr. Webster's religious views 
and tastes : y 

"It was our fa»>tune," says he, " to pass several days at 
his home in Marshfield, some six or eight years ago, and 
well we remember one beautiful night, when the heavens 
seemed to be studded with countless myriads of stars, that, 
about nine o'clock in the evening, we walked out and 
stood beneath the beautiful weeping elm which raises its 
majestic form within a few paces of his dwelling, and 
looking up through the leafy branches, he appeared for 
several minutes to be wrapped in deep thought, and at 
length, as if the scene, so soft and beautiful, had suggest- 
ed the lines, he quoted certain verses of the eighth Psalm, 
beginning with the words, ' When I consider thy heavens, 



102 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which 
thou hast ordained ; what is man, that thou art mindful 
of him ? and the son of man, that thou visitest him ? For 
thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and 
hast crowned him with glory and honor,' &o. 

" The deep, low tone in which he repeated these in- 
spired words, and the deep, rapt attention with which 
he gazed up through the branches of the elm, struck us 
with a feeling of greater awe and solemnity than we ever 
feH when, in a year or two later, we visited some of the 
most magnificent cathedrals of the old world, venerable 
with the ivy of centuries, and mellowed with the glories 
of a daily church service for a thousand years. He was 
thinking then of that far-distant world, wherein it is prom- 
ised that the good of this life shall live forever and ever. 
"We remained out beneath the tree for over an hour, and 
all the time he conversed about the Scriptures, w^hich no 
man has studied with greater attention, and of which no 
man whom we ever saw knew so much, or appeared to 
understand or appreciate so well. 

" He talked of the books of the Old Testament especial- 
ly, and dwelt with unaffected pleasure upon Isaiah, the 
Psalms, and especially the Book of Job. The Book of 
Job, he said, taken as a mere work of literary genius, was 
one of the most wonderful productions of any age or of 
any language. As ar^epic poem^he, deemed it far supe- 
rior to either the Iliad or the Odyssey. The two last, he 
said, received much of their attraction from the mere nar- 
ration of warlike deeds, and from the perilous escapes of 
the chief personage from death and slaughter ; but the 



DANIEL WEBSTER. l(J:j 

Book of Job was a purely intellectual narrative. Its power 
was shown in the dialogues of the characters introduced. 
The story was simple in its construction, and there was 
little in it to excite the imagination or arouse the sym- 
pathy. It was purely an intellectual production, and de- 
pended upon the power of the dialogue, and not upon the 
interest of the story, to produce its effects. This was con- 
sidering it merely as an intellectual work. He read it 
through very often, and always With renewed delight. In 
his judgment, it was the greatest epic ever written. 

" We well remember his quotation of some of the verses 
in the thirty-eighth chapter : ' Then the Lord answered 
Job out of the whirlwind, and said, Who is this that dark- 
eneth counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up 
now thy loins like a man ; for I will demand of thee, and 
answer thou me. Where wast thou when I laid the 
foundations of the earth ? Declare, if thou hast under- 
standing,' &c. Mr. Webster was a fine reader, and his 
recitation of particular passages which he admired was 
never surpassed, and was capable of giving the most ex- 
quisite delight to those who could appreciate them." 

In further illustration of j^e foregoing, the following, 
from the pen of Francis Hall, Esq., of the New York Com- 
mercial Advertiser, is deeply interesting : 

Some years ago," says he, '' we had the pleasure of 
spending several days in company with Mr. Webster, at 
the residence of a mutual friend, Harvey Ely, Esq., at 
Rochester. During that intercourse we had more than 
one opportunity of conversing on religious subjects, some- 
times ^on doctrinal points, but more generally on the im- 



104 



PRIVATE LI F K O F 



portance of the Holy Scriptures as containing the plan of 
man's salvation through the atonement of Christ. So far 
as our knowledge of the subject extends, Mr. Webster was 
as orthodox as any man we ever conversed with. 

" On one occasion, when seated m the drawing-room 
with Mr. and Mrs. Ely, Mr. Webster laid his hand on a 
copy of the Scriptures, saying, with great emphasis, ^Thts 
is the Book!'' This led to a conversation on the import- 
ance of the Scriptures, and the too frequent neglect of the 
study of the Bible by gentlemen of the legal profession, 
their pursuits in life leading them to the almost exclusive 
study of works having reference to their profession. Mr. 
Webster said, ' I have read through the entire Bible many 
times. I now make a practice to go through it once a 
year. It is the book of all others for lawyers as well as 
for divines ; and I pity the man that can not find in it a 
rich supply of thought, and of rules for his conduct. It 
fits man for life — it prepares him for death!' 

' ' The conversation then turned upon sudden deaths ; 
and Mr. Webster adverted to the then recent death of his 
orother, w^ho expired suddenly at Concord, N. H. ' My 
brother,' he continued, ' knew the importance of Bible 
truths. The Bible led him to prayer, and prayer was his 
communion with G-od. On the day on which he died, he 
was engaged in an important cause in the court then in 
session. But this cause, important as it was, did not keep 
him from his duty to his Grod. He found time for pray- 
er ; for on the desk which he had just left was found a 
prayer written by him on that day, which, for fervent 
piety, a devotedness to his heavenly Master, and for ex- 
pressions of humility, I think was never excelled.' 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 105 

" Mr. Webster then mentioned the satisfaction he had de- 
rived from the preaching of certain clergymen, observino- 
that ' men were so constituted that we could not all ex- 
pect the same spiritual benefit under the ministry of the 
same clergyman.' He regretted that there was not more 
harmony of feeling among professors generally who be- 
lieved in the great truths of our common Christianity. 
Difference of opinion, he admitted, was proper ; but yet, 
with that difference, the main objects should be love to 
G-od — love to our fellow-creatures. In all Mr. Webster's 
conversations he maintained true catholicity of feeling." 

A few months ago, when Professor Sanborn, of Dart- 
mouth College (who is the husband of one of Mr. Webster's 
nieces), happened to be in Washington City, he wrote a 
private letter to a friend, which contained the following 
interesting passage : " A few evenings since, sitting by his 
own fireside, after a day of severe labor in the Supreme 
Court, Mr. Webster introduced the last Sabbath's sermon, 
and discoursed in animated and glowing eloquence for an 
hour on the great truths of the G-ospel. I can not but re- 
gard the opinions of such a man in some sense as public 
property. This is my apology for attempting to recall 
some of those remarks which were uttered in the privacy 
of the domestic circle. Said Mr. Webster, ' Last Sabbath 
I listened to an able and learned discourse upon the evi- 
dences of Christianity. The arguments were drawn from 
prophecy, history, with internal evidence. They were 
stated with logical accuracy and force ; but, as it seemed 
to me, the clergyman failed to draw from them the right 
conclusion. He came so near the truth that I was as- 

E 2 



106 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

tonished that he missed it. In summing up his argu- 
ments, he said, the only alternative presented by these 
evidences is this : either Chi'istianity is true, or it is a de- 
lusion produced by an excited imagination. Such is not 
the alternative,' said the critic, ' but it is this : the G-ospel 
is either true history, or it is a consummate fraud ; it is 
either a reality or an imposition. Christ v^as what he pro- 
fessed to be, or he was an impostor. There is no other 
alternative. His spotless life in his earnest enforcement 
of the truth — his suffering in its defense, forbid us to sup- 
pose that he was suffering an illusion of a heated brain. 
Every act of his pure and holy life shows that he was the 
author of truth, the advocate of truth, the earnest defender 
of truth, and the uncompromising sufferer for truth. Now, 
considering the purity of his doctrines, the simplicity of 
his life, and the sublimity of his death, is it possible that 
he would have died for an illusion ? In all his preaching 
the Savior made no popular appeals. His discourses were 
all directed to the individual. Christ and his apostles 
sought to impress upon every man the conviction that he 
must stand or fall alone — he must live for himself and die 
for himself, and give up his account to the omniscient 
Grod, as though he were the only dependent creature in 
the universe. The G-ospel leaves the individual sinner 
alone with himself and his Grod. To his own Master he 
stands or falls. He has nothing to hope from the aid and 
sympathy of associates. The deluded advocates of new 
doctrines do not so preach. Christ and his apostles, had 
they been deceivers, would not have so preached. If cler- 
gymen in our days would return to the simplicity of the 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 107 

Gospel, and preach more to individuals and less to the 
crowd, there would not be so much complaint of the de- 
cline of true religion. Many of the ministers of the pres- 
ent day take their text from St. Paul, and preach froiii 
the newspapers. When they do so, I prefer to enjoy in 
own thoughts rather than to listen. I want my pastor to 
come to me in the spirit of the Gospel, saying, '' You are 
mortal ! your probation is brief ; your work must be done 
speedily ; you are immortal too. You are hastening to 
the bar of God ; the Judge standeth before the door." 
When I am thus admonished, I have no disposition to 
muse or to sleep. These topics,' said Mr. Webster, 'have 
often occupied my thoughts, and if I had time I would 
write on them myself.' 

" The above remarks are but a meagre and imperfect 
abstract from memory of one of the most eloquent sermons 
to which I ever listened." 

One of the most4)eculiar traits of Mr. Webster's char- 
acter was his i^emor)- with regard to men and names. 
There probably never lived a man who was personally 
acquainted with so many men, whether distinguished or 
obscure. He always seemed posted up with regard to 
what every body had said or done. By way of illustrating 
this fact, the following memorandums of answers to two 
questions, proposed by the writer during an evening con- 
versation, are appended : 

'' The verses beginning ' You'd scarce expect one of my 
age,'' which are generally found in the school-books cred- 
ited to Edward Everett, were written by David Everett. 
He was an educated man of considerable genius and tal- 



108 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

ent, born, I think, in Massachusetts, and reared to the 
bar. If I mistake not, he studied law in New Hamp- 
shire, at Amherst, where he practiced his profession for 
many years, and held the office of County Solicitor. He 
was a pleasant speaker and an agreeable man. His poli- 
tics were of the Democratic school, and I think he was at 
one time concerned in the editorship of one of the Boston 
journals. Several of his orations and addresses were 
printed. He was at the bar in New Hampshire when I 
lived in that state. Always differing in political matters, 
we were yet friends ; and he was accustomed to speak of 
my earliest efforts at the bar with warm commendation. 

" * No pent-up Utica contracts our pow'rs, 
But the whole boundless continent is ours.' 

" I have often been asked if I knew the origin of these 
lines, and especially have been so asked by citizens of 
Utica, in New York. This shows how the authorship of 
such small productions, agreeable though they may be, 
passes away and is forgotten. Fifty years ago or nrore, 
when the American theatre was far more respectable, in 
my opinion, than it is now, Addison's tragedy of Cato was 
got up by a company in Boston, and represented, I think, 
at the old Federal Street Theatre. A prologue on that oc- 
casion was written by Robert Treat Paine ^ Jun., Esq., 
and these lines are part of that prologue. Robert Treat 
Paine, then Robert Treat Paine, Jun,, was the second son 
of Robert T. Paine, one of the signers of the Declaration 
of Independence. He was bred to the bar, but did not 
follow Blackstone's example in bidding farewell to his 
Muse and giving himself up to his profession. He had a 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 109 

good deal of the spirit of poetry in him, and wrote many- 
things indicative of genius and spirit. Among others, the 
song of Adams and Liberty, which was very popular in 
New England in its time. Some of its verses were trav- 
estied ; for instance, the following lines occur in the song : 

" ' Roll on, loved Connecticut ; long hast thou ran, 
Giving verdure to nature, and freedom to man.' 

" A wag altered the lines thus : 

*' ' Roll on, loved Connecticut ; long hast thou ran, 
Giving shad to Northampton, and freedom to man.' 

*' Mr. Paine was christened Thomas Paine, which name 
he bore to his manhood, and then had it changed for his 
father's name, because he did not like to bear the same as 
that of the author of the ^Ag'e of Reason.^ He was an 
intimate friend of the late Major Russel, for many years 
the editor of the ' Boston Sentinel,' and often contributed 
to the columns of that valuable journal." 



110 PRIVATE LIFE OF 



MISCELLANEOUS MEMORIALS. 

Of all the coincidences associated with Mr. Webster, 
there is not one to be compared for interest and beauty 
with the following : When he delivered his argument on 
the Grirard Will, in the Supreme Court of the United States, 
the excitement to hear him was truly intense. The ar- 
ray of women was unusually great during the entire three 
days that he spoke, so much so, indeed, that numbers of 
them, who could obtain no better position, sat upon the 
very floor, forgetful of all comfort. Although, when he 
entered the court-room, he intended only to deliver a dry, 
legal argument, yet when the effort was completed it was 
found to be a splendid sermon on the Christian ministry, 
as well as the religious instruction of the young ; and 
among many others of equal merit was this passage : 
" When little children were brought into the presence of 
the Son of God, his disciples proposed to send them away ; 
but he said, ' Suffer little children to come unto me.' 
Unto me ; he did not send them first for lessons in morals 
to the schools of the Pharisees or to the unbelieving Sad- 
ducees, nor to read the precepts and lessons pliylacteried 
on the garments of the Jewish priesthood ; he said noth- 
ing of different creeds or clashing doctrines ; but he opened 
at once to the youthful mind the everlasting fountain of 
living waters, the only source of eternal truth, ' Suffer 



DANIEL WEBSTER. Ill 

little children to come unto me.^ And that injunction is 
of perpetual obligation ; it addresses itself to-day with the 
same earnestness and the same authority which attended 
its first utterance to the Christian world. It is of force 
every where, and at all times. It extends to the ends of 
the earth ; it will reach to the end of time, always and 
every where sounding in the ears of men, with an empha- 
sis which nothing can weaken, and with an authority 
which nothing can supersede, ' Suffer little children to 
come unto me.' " 

The coincidence alluded to consisted in the fact that, 
during the very hour of the very day on which the above 
paragraph was uttered, one of Mr. "Webster's own grand- 
children, the child of his son Fletcher, died in its mother's 
arms, and was indeed translated to the bosom of its Savior. 

The following well-authenticated fact was related to 
the writer by an eye-witness, and is only a specimen of 
many that might be mentioned tending to illustrate the 
character of Mr. Webster's heart. Somewhere about the 
year 1826, a certain gentleman residing in Boston was 
thrown into almost inextricable difficulties by the failure 
of a house for which he had become responsible to a large 
amount. He needed legal advice, and being disheartened, 
he desired the author of this anecdote to go with him and 
relate his condition to Mr. Webster. The lawyer heard 
the story entirely through, advised his client what to do, 
and to do it immediately, and requested him to call again 
in a few days. After the gentlemen had left Mr. Web- 
ster's office, he came hurriedly to the door, called upon the 



112 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

gentlemen to stop a moment, and having approached them 
with his pocket-hook in hand, he thus addressed his cli- 
ent: "It seems to me, my good sir, if I understood your 
case rightly, you are entirely naked ; is it so ?" 

The client replied that he was indeed penniless, and 
then, of course, expected a demand for a retaining fee. 
Instead of that demand, however, Mr. Webster kindly re- 
marked, as he handed the client a bill for five hundred 
dollars^ 

" Well, there, take that ; it is all I have by me now. I 
wish it was more ; and if you are ever able, you must pay 
it back again." 

The client was overcome, and it may be well imagined 
that he has ever since been a "Webster man." Surely, a 
man who could command the admiration of the world by 
the efforts of his gigantic intellect, and also possessed the 
above self-sacrificing habit of making friends, must indeed 
have been a great and a good man. 

Those upon whom will hereafter devolve the duty of 
writing, in detail, the life of Mr. Webster, will find a mine 
of intellectual wealth in his correspondence. The total 
number of letters that he has ^^Titten is unusually great, 
even for a man of distinction, and though many of them 
are necessarily brief, a large proportion of them contain 
original opinions of peculiar value and interest. Since 
they have been addressed to persons in every sphere of 
life, from the lords and ladies of England, and the schol 
ars, farmers, and merchants of our own country, to those 
in the humble walks of life in every state of the Union, 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 113 

their '' subject themes" are of course manifold; but it will 
be found that they are all distinguished either for wisdom, 
wit, learning, beauty, or affection. Indeed, in the opinion 
of the writer, a more delightful book could not be imagined 
than that would be, composed of a collection of Mr. Web- 
ster's letters. And in this place it may do no harm to 
mention, that there are in existence several volumes of 
manuscript notes which were recorded by two ladies who 
were members of his household during his visit to England, 
and which are almost exclusively devoted to his observa- 
tions and opinions, as casually expressed in a familiar 
manner. 

A number of highly interesting letters and autographic 
keepsakes were presented to the writer at various times 
by Mr. Webster, and though he cherished the belief that 
these were his own property, a different opinioi; has been 
expressed, and he submits without a murmur. 

The following letter was written by Mr. Webster at five 
o'clock in the morning, and in the month of April, 1847, 
while upon a visit to Richmond, Virginia. It was ad- 
dressed to Mrs. J. W. Paige, a lady connected with his 
family residing in Boston : 

" Whether it be a favor or an annoyance, you owe this 
letter to my habits of early rising. From the hour marked 
at the top of the page, you will naturally conclude that 
my companions are not now engaging my attention, as 
we have not calculated on being early travelers to-day. 

" This city has a ' pleasant seat.' It is high ; the James 
River runs below it, and when I went out an hour ago, 
nothing was heard but the roar of the falls. The air is 



114 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

tranquil and its temperature mild. It is morning, and a 
morning sweet, and fresh, and delightful. Every body 
knows the morning in its metaphorical sense, applied to 
so many objects and on so many occasions. The health, 
strength, and beauty of early years leads us to call that 
period the ' morning of life.' Of a lovely young woman 
we say, she ' is bright as the morning,' and no one doubts 
why Lucifer is called ' son of the morning.' 

" But the morning itself few people, inhabitants of cities, 
know any thing about. Among all our good people, not 
one in a thousand sees the sun rise once a year. They 
know nothing of the morning. Their idea of it is, that it 
is that part of the day which comes along after a cup of 
coffee and a beef-steak, or a piece of toast. With them 
morning is not a new issuing of light, a new bursting forth 
of the sun, a new waking up of all that has life, from a 
sort of temporary death, to behold again the works of Grod, 
the heavens and the earth ; it is only a part of the domes- 
tic day belonging to breakfast, to reading the newspapers, 
answering notes, sending the children to school, and giving 
orders for dinner. The first faint streak of light, the ear- 
liest purpling of the east, which the lark springs up to 
greet, and the deeper and deeper coloring into orange and 
red, till at length the ' glorious sun is seen, regent of day' 
— this they never enjoy, for they never see it. 

" Beautiful descriptions of the morning abound in all 
languages, but they are the strongest, perhaps, in those of 
the East, where the sun is often an object of worship. 

" King David speaks of taking to himself the ' wings of 
the morning.' This is highly poetical and beautiful. The 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 115 

wings of the morning are the beams of the rising sun. 
Rays of light are wings. It is that the sun of righteous- 
ness shall arise ' with healing in his wings.' A rising sun 
which shall scatter life, and health, and joy throughout 
the universe. 

" Milton has fine descriptions of morning, but not so 
many as Shakspeare, from whose writings pages of the most 
beautiful imagery, all founded on the glory of mornino-, 
might be filled. 

" I never thought that Adam had much the advantage 
of us, from having seen the world while it was new. 

^' The manifestations of the power of Grod, like his mer- 
cies, are ' new every morning,' and fresh every moment. 
" We see as fine rising of the sun as even Adam saw, and 
its rising are as much a miracle now as they were in his 
day, and I think a good deal more, because it is now a 
part of the miracle that for thousands and thousands of 
years he has come to his appointed time without the va- 
riation of a millionth part of a second. Adam could not 
tell how this might be. 

" I know the morning— I am acquainted with it, and I 
love it. I love it, fresh and sweet as it is— a daily new 
creation, breaking forth and calling all that have life, and 
breath, and being to new adoration, new enjoyments, and 
new gratitude." 

The following extract from a letter will be read with in- 
terest. It was written from Franklin, New Hampshire, 
on the 3d of May, 1846 : 



116 PRIVATE LIFE OF 



" Sunday, 1 o'clock. 
" My dear Sir, 

" T have made satisfactory arrangements respecting the 
house ; the best of which is, that I find I can leave it 
where it is (that is, the main house), and yet be comfort- 
able, notwithstanding the rail-road. This saves a great 
deal of expense. 

^P ^ ^F ^P ^ 

" This house faces due north. Its front windows look to- 
ward the River Merrimack. But then the river soon turns 
to the south, so that the eastern windows look toward the 
river also. But the river has so deepened its channel in 
this stretch of it, in the last fifty years, that we can not 
see its water without approaching it, or going back to th-e 
higher lands behind us. The history of this change is of 
considerable importance in the philosophy of streams. I 
have observed it practically, and know something of the 
theory of the phenomenon, but I doubt whether the world 
will ever be benefited either by my learning or my observ- 
ation in this respect. Looking out at the east windows 
at this moment (2 P.M.), with a beautiful sun just break- 
ing out, my eye sweeps a rich and level field of 100 acres. 
At the end of it, a third of a mile off, I see plain marble 
grave-stones, designating the places where repose my fa- 
ther, my mother, my brother Joseph, and my sisters Me- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 117 

hetabel, Abigail, and Sarah, good and Scripture names 
inherited from their Puritan ancestors. 

" My father, Ebenezer Webster, born at Kingston, in 
the lower part of the state, in 1739, the handsomest man 
I ever saw, except my brother Ezekiel, who appeared to 
me — and so does he now seem to me — the very finest hu- 
man form that ever I laid eyes on. I saw him in his cof- 
fin — a white forehead, a tinged cheek, a complexion as 
clear as heavenly light ! But where am I straying ? The 
grave has closed upon him, as it has on all my brothers 
and sisters. We shall soon be all together. But this is 
melancholy, and I leave it. Dear, dear kindred blood, 
how I love you all I 

" This fair field is before me. I could see a lamb 
on any part of it. I have plowed it, and raked it, and 
hoed it ; but I never mowed it. Somehow, I could never 
learn to hang a scythe. I had not wit enough. My 
brother Joe used to say that my father sent me to college 
in order to make me equal to the rest of the children ! 

"Of a hot day in July — it must have been in one of 
the last years of Washingiion's administration — I was 
making hay, with my father, just where I now see a re- 
maining elm-tree. About the middle of the afternoon, the 
Honorable Abiel Foster, M.C., who lived in Canterbury, six 
miles off, called at the house, and came into the field to 
see my father. He was a worthy man, college-learned, 
and had been a minister, but was not a person of any con- 
siderable natural power. My father was his friend and 
supporter. He talked a while in the field, and went on 
his way. When he was gone, my father called me to 



118 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

him, and we sat down beneath the ehn, on a hay-cock. 
He said, ' My son, that is a worthy man. He is a mem- 
ber of Congress. He goes to Philadelphia, and gets six 
dollars a day, while I toil here. It is because he had an 
education, which I never had. If I had had his earlv ed- 
ucation, I should have been in Philadelphia in his place. 
I came near it as it was. But I missed it, and now I 
must work here.' ' My dear father,' said I, ' you shall 
not work. Brother and I will work for you, and wear our 
hands out, and you shall rest.' And I remember to have 
cried ; and I cry now at the recollection. ' My child,' 
said he, ' it is of no importance to me ; I now live but for 
my children. I could not give your elder brother the ad- 
vantages of knowledge, but I can do something for you. 
Exert yourself ; improve your opportunities; learn, learn; 
and, when I am gone, you will not need to go through the 
hardships which I have undergone, and which have made 
me an old man before my time.' 

" The next May he took me to Exeter, to the Phillips 
Exeter Academy, placed me under the tuition of its ex- 
cellent preceptor, Dr. Benjamin Abbott, still living, and 
from that time # # # * 

" My father died in April, 1806. I neither left him nor 
forsook him. My opening an office at Boscawen was that 
I might be near him. I closed his eyes in this very house. 
He died at sixty-seven years of age, after a life of exer- 
tion, toil, and exposure ; a private soldier, an officer, a 
legislator, a judge, every thing that a man could be to 
whom learning never had disclosed her ' ample page.' 
My first speech at the bar was made when he was on the 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 119 

bench. He never heard me a second time. He had in 
him what I collect to have been the character of some of 
the old Puritans. He was deeply religious, but not sour. 
On the contrary, good-humored, facetious ; sharing, even 
in his age, with a contagious laugh; teeth all as white 
as alabaster ; gentle, soft, playful ; and yet having a heart 
in him that he seemed to have borrowed from a lion. He 
could frown — a frown it was — but cheerfuhiess, good- 
humor, and smiles composed his most usual aspect. 
" Ever truly yours, &c., 

" Danl. Webster." 

It has elsewhere been mentioned that Mr. Webster was 
fond of the sea ; a sail in his yacht, on a pleasant day, 
always seemed to afford him unalloyed delight. In speak- 
ing of its roar on one occasion, after a storm, he stated 
that this was called the rote or rut of the sea ; that both 
words were correct, since they were from the one Latin 
root — rota. The ruts in the road, he said, were the ef- 
fect of rolling wheels, while rotation meant repetition as 
well as succession. To learn a thing by rote was to fix 
it in the mind by repeated readings. The rote or rut of 
the sea, therefore, only meant the noise produced by the 
action of the surf breaking on the shore. An expression 
which was often used by Seth Peterson, " the cry of the 
sea^^ he thought very expressive, for it signified the deep, 
hollow groaning and wailing of the ocean, uttered as if 
in anger, or smarting under the lashing of the winds. 

The following are the original notes of Mr. Webster's 



120 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

speech in the Senate, on the 7th of March, 1850, and given 
by him to Hon. Edward Curtis the next day. 

Introduction, &c. 

Stirring times, winds let loose, &c. I speak for union 
— and quiet. 

1. History of events which have brought on this state 
of things. 

2. Slavery — how regarded now. North and South — 
Absolutists. Impatient waiters. 

3. How regarded in 1789. 

4. What has changed the view ? 

Religion, at the North — Cotton, at the South. 

5. Acquisitions. 

Cession by Georgia, 1802 — Louisiana, 1803 — Florida, 
1819. 

Q. Finally^ Texas ^ 1845. 

This sealed the whole matter. Read Resolution. 

My general proposition. 

7. Who brought in Texas ? 

*' Northern Democracy." Votes in the two Houses. 
Mr. Dix — Mr. Niles. 

8. Review my own speeches. 

9. As to California and New Mexico, the law of Nature. 

10. Then what is the value of the Wilmot Proviso ? &c. 
Polk. 

11. Now the aggressions complained of South and North. 
Secession. Conclusion. 

12. Two ideas. 

13. Conclusion. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 121 

The following will be read with peculiar pleasure as a 
specimen of Mr. Webster's poetry : 

"THE MEMORY OF THE HEART. 

*' If stores of dry and learned lore we gain, 
We keep them in the memory of the brain ; 
Names, things, and facts — whatever we knowledge call, 
There is the conunon ledger for them all ; 
And images on this cold surface traced 
Make slight impressions, and are soon effaced. 

" But we've a page more glowing and more bright, 
On which our friendship and our love to v^rrite ; 
That these may never from the soul depart. 
We trust them to the memory oj the heart. 
There is no dimming — no effacement here ; 
Each new pulsation keeps the record clear ; 
Warm, golden letters, all the tablet fill. 
Nor lose their lustre till the heart stands still. 

"London, Novemher 19th, 1839." 

The following is a memorandum of Mr. Webster's con- 
versation, touching one of his first schoolmasters : 

" William Hoyt was for many years teacher of our coun- 
ty school in Salisbury ; I do not call it village school, be- 
cause there v/as at that time no village, and boys came to 
school in the winter, the only season in which schools were 
usually open, from distances of several miles, wading 
through the snow, or running upon its crust, with their 
curly hair often whitened with frost from their own breaths. 
I knew William Hoyt well, and every truant knew him. 
He was an austere man, but a good teacher of children. 
He had been a printer in Newbury port, wrote a very fair 

and excellent hand, was a good reader, and could teach 

F 



122 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

boys, and did teach boys that which so few masters can or 
will do, to read well themselves. Beyond this, and perhaps 
a very slight knowledge of grammar, his attainments did 
not extend. He had brought with him into the town a 
little property which he took very good care of. Fe rather 
loved money, of all the cases of nouns preferring tht pos- 
sessive ; he also kept a little shop for the sale of various 
commodities in the house, exactly over the way from this. 
I do not know how old I was, but I remember having- o^one 
into his shop one day and bought a small cotton pocket 
handkerchief, with the Constitution of the United States 
printed on its two sides ; from this I first learned either 
that there was a Constitution, or that there were United 
States. I remember to have read .t, and have known 
more or less of it ever since. "William Hoyt and his wife 
lie buried in the grave-yard under our eye, on my farm, 
near the graves of my own family. He left no children. I 
suppose that this little handkerchief was purchased about 
the time that I was eight years old, as I remember listen- 
ing to the conversation of my father and Mr. Thompson 
upon political events which happened in the year 1790." 

Mr. Webster's father was a soldier in the old French 
war (so called), and, as already mentioned, also acquitted 
himself with honor as a captain under G-eneral John Stark, 
at the battle of Bennington. On the battle-field, as well 
as in the walks of civil life, they were fast friends ; and 
the elder Webster used to say that G-eneral Stark always 
thought and talked a great deal more about his exploits 
as a trapper of beaver, and a hunter, and fighter of the red 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 123 

man and Frenchman, in his earlier life, than he did of his 
Revolutionary deeds. But Mr. Webster related the follow- 
ing characteristic anecdotes to the writer : He was about 
twenty-seven years of age, and professional business had 
called him to the then village, now known as the flourish- 
ing city of Manchester, where the famous general resided. 
The young lawyer called upon the hero for the purpose of 
paying his respects, and found him surrounded with friends, 
who, with him, were hard at work drinking flip. The 
parties were introduced, and the moment G-eneral Stark 
heard the name of Webster, he exclaimed in a loud voice, 
"Why, Dan Webster, you're as black as your father; and 
he was so black that I could never tell when his face was 
covered with powdlx, for he was one of those chaps al- 
ways in the thickest of the fight." 

It was while hunting in the immediate vicinity of 
Elms Farm that General Stark had been captured by the 
Indians and taken to Canada, where he was sold for a 
specific sum of money ; and it is a common saying in that 
region, that whenever he heard his neighbors talking 
about how much any of them were worth, he invariably 
mentioned the fact that his own value had been positive- 
ly ascertained, for the Indians had once sold him to the 
French for d£40, and that a man was worth about what he 
would fetch. 

Among the subordinates of the State Department at the 
present time (1852) is a very worthy colored man named 
Charles Brown, who has been in Mr. Webster's employ- 
ment for about thirty years. Indeed, Mr. Webster has 



124 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

never been in Washington for any length of time, since he 
first entered Congress, without having by his side this faith- 
ful servant. A few years ago it came to Mr. Webster's 
knowledge that this servant had purchased a lot of ground 
and built him a comfortable house, whereupon he was 
Questioned by Mr. Webster as to his unexpected success. 

"Where did you get the money to purchase so fine a 
house ?" asked he. 

" I am glad to say, sir, that it all came out of your 
pocket," replied the man ; " it is the money which you 
have given me on holidays and other occasions." 

From this it would appear that his occasional free gifts 
were sufficient, in one instance, to make a man comfort- 
able for life. 

On one occasion, when Mr. Webster had consulted his 
physician (and a man of eminence too), and could not ob- 
tain an answer to a scientific inquiry, he made this re- 
mark : 

"Why, doctor, there is no such thing as science, no 
mathematical science, in your profession or mine. Now 
I tell you to remember one thing : in every place and at 
all times, bear it as your motto — Nobody knows any 
thing.'''' 

Another motto, which he claimed to have made his own 
on commencing life, was this : 

" Since I know nothing and have nothings I must learn 
and earnP 

A Quaker gentleman of Nantucket once called upon 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 125 

Mr. Webster, at his office in Boston, for the purpose of se- 
curing his services in a suit which was about to be tried 
on the island, and wound up his appeal by demanding his 
terms. 

"I will attend to your case for one thousand dollars," 
replied Mr. Webster. 

The client demurred, but finding that the lawyer would 
not visit Nantucket for a less amount than the one spec- 
ified, he promised to pay the proposed fee, provided Mr. 
Webster would agree " to attend to any other matters that 
he might present during the sitting of the court," to which 
Mr. Webster consented. 

The appointed time arrived, and Mr. Webster was at his 
post. The leading case of his client was brought forward, 
argued, and decided in his favor. Another case was taken 
up, and the Quaker assigned it to the care of Mr. Webster, 
when it was satisfactorily disposed of; another still, and 
with the same result ; and still another, and another, until 
Mr. Webster became impatient and demanded an explana- 
tion ; whereupon the client remarked : 

" I hired thee to attend to all the business of the court, 
and thou hast done it handsomely : so here is thy money, 
one thousand dollars." 

The concerns of his farm always engrossed a very large 
share of Mr. Webster's attention, and a talented contempo- 
rary justly remarks that he loved its labors, and the genial 
communion with nature which its associations so much 
favored. It was there that the magnanimous kindliness 
and tenderness of heart, which formed so large a portion 



126 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

of his character, made itself seen and felt hy all who came 
within his influence. He was always happy when he 
could escape from the worrying cares of professional or of 
public life to the retired and homely pursuits of his Marsh- 
field Farm. The most genial humor pervaded all he did 
and said while thus engaged. Of this, also, we happen 
to have a happy instance in a business note which he 
wrote to Charles A. Stetson^ Esq., of the Astor House, 
some three years ago, during his temporary stay at Marsh- 
field : 

"Marshfield, Sunday, Sept. 5th, 1849. 
" My dear Sir, 

" The best pair of working oxen on my farm shall set 
out for your place on Monday. They are seven years old, 
large, handsome, perfectly well broke, and, for common 
cart- work on a farm, are a team of themselves. 

" I shall send, also, a likely pair of three-year-old steers, 
which have been somewhat used to the yoke, but are not 
yet quite so well trained and drilled as a couple of dining- 
room waiters at the Astor House. If you wish any change 
in this arrangement, please address a line to me, or, in my 
absence, to ' Mr. Porter Wright,' as I may go somewhere 
to try to mitigate my horrid catarrh. If we do not hear 
to the contrary, the aforesaid oxen and steers will be 
among the Lynn people next Tuesday morning, where 
they may tremble for their skins. 

" I hear nothing of the Alderney, but should be quite 
glad to know that she was soon to join a very small party 
of her own relatives here, viz., one male and one female. 

" I am grieved to have not seen you here, and hope you 



DANIEL WEBSTER, 127 

will be the very next visitor, after the President, if he 
should come, and an earlv one if he should not. 
'' I hope to leave off sneezing in about a fortnight. 
'' Yours very truly, always, 

" Danl. Webster." 

This little note, so unimportant in itself, gives a pleasant 
glimpse into the spirit which brooded around the daily life 
of this great man, during his intervals of leisure and re- 
laxation from the harassing anxieties of official place. 

As an appendix to the foregoing note, it ought to be 
stated that Mr. Stetson is owner of the celebrated farm in 
Lynn so highly improved by the late Henry Coleman. 
The allusion to the Astor House waiters reminds the writ- 
er, too, that when he happened to be at the Astor House, 
soon after Mr. Webster's death, the servants, knowing the 
writer, and feeling deeply the national bereavement, flocked 
around him in crowds, and asked many minute questions 
about the closing hours of their great friend. Unfortu- 
nately, no satisfactory replies could then be given, for, ow- 
ing to circumstances over which he had no control, the 
writer could not be present at the closing scene. Since 
the erection of the Astor House, Mr. Webster never had 
any other stopping-place while in New York. 

When the remains of Major Edward Webster were 
brought home from Mexico, his sorrow-stricken father was 
sensibly affected by the alacrity with which the '' citizen 
soldiery" of Boston paraded to pay martial honors to tlie 
gallant volunteer. And carefully did he garner up every 



128 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

anecdote of his son's services from those who were asso- 
ciated with him in the formation of the Massachusetts 
Regiment and its campaign in Mexico. On one occasion 
the writer presented him wdth a sprig of laurel, with which 
a melancholy interest was associated. Just hefore em- 
barking for Mexico, Major Webster paid a farewell visit 
to some estimable friends who reside on the banks of the 
Merrimack, in Newburyport, and in a stroll culled a laurel 
flower. " Do you intend to carry with you materials for 
a victor's wreath ?" inquired the companion of his walli. 
"No," he replied; ''but you may plant the slip, and ] 
will endeavor to prove worthy of the wreath on my re- 
turn." The slip took root, flourished, and is now a beau- 
tiful shrub ; and as Mr. Webster heard its history, he V 
gazed upon the sprig taken from it as though he wished 
that his son could also have been spared, and laid it away 
carefully among his treasured mementoes. Such relics 
were sacred in his eyes, and many an autographic or floral 
trifle did he hallow tov/ard the close of his life, by pre- 
senting it to some friend with words never to be forgotten 
by the recipient. 

Few men who have ever figured at all in the National 
Legislature have ever had as little to do with state gov- 
ernments as Mr. Webster ; and it was in alluding to this 
fact that he once made the following remarks, while upon 
a visit to the city of Syracuse : 

" It has so happened that all the public services which 
I have rendered in the world, in my day and generation, 
have been connected with the general government. I 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 129 

think I ought to make an exception. I was ten days a 
member of the Massachusetts Legislature (laughter), and 
I turned my thoughts to the search of some good object in 
which I could be useful in that position ; and after much 
reflection, I introduced a bill which, with the general con- 
sent of both Houses of the Massachusetts Legislature, pass 
ed into a law, and is now a law of the state, which enacts 
that no man in the state shall catch trout in any other 
manner than in the old way, with an ordinary hook and 
line. (G-reat laughter.) With that exception, I never 
was connected for an hour with any state government in 
my life. I never held office, high or low, under any state 
government. Perhaps that was my misfortune. 

" At the age of thirty I was in New Hampshire prac- 
ticing law, and had some clients. John Taylor G-ilman, 
who for fourteen years was governor of the state, thought 
that, a young man as I was, I might be fit to be an At- 
torney G-eneral of the State of New Hampshire, and he 
nominated me to the Council ; and the Council taking it 
into their deep consideration, and not happening to be of 
the same politics as the governor and myself, voted, three 
out of five, that I was not competent, and very likely they 
were right. (Laughter.) So you see, gentlemen, I never 
gained promotion in any state government." 

The opinion that Mr. Webster entertained of his great 

compeer Mr. Clay, as here recorded, from a note taken at 

the time and when the latter was on his death-bed, gives 

us a new insight into his character. It was uttered at his 

own table, and is as follows : 

F 2 



130 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

'' Mr. Clay is a great man, beyond all question a true 
patriot. He tias done much for his country. He ought 
lono: ao^o to have been elected President. I think, how- 
ever, he was never a man of books — a hard student, but 
he has displayed remarkable genius. I never could imag- 
ine him sitting comfortably in his library, and reading 
quietly out of the great books of the past. He has been 
too fond of the world to enjoy any thing like that. He has 
been too fond of excitement — he has lived up^n it ; he has 
been too fond of company, not enough alone ; and has had 
few" resources within himself. Now a man who can not, 
to some extent, depend upon himself for happiness, is to ^' 
my mind one of the unfortunate. But Clay is a great 
man, and if he ever had animosities against me, I forgive 
him and forget them." 

On one occasion, during a temporary illness, Mr. Web- 
ster received a visit, in his chamber at Marshfield, from an 
old friend who lived about thirty miles off. After a long 
talk about the olden times, the visitor touched upon the 
misfortunes and reverses he had experienced, and inci- 
dentally mentioned that he was anxious to obtain a good 
cow. Mr. Webster listened attentively, but said not a 
word. When the friend had risen to go, however, he sum- 
moned Porter Wright into his presence, and told him to 
show his friend the herd of cattle, and to deliver into his 
possession any one of the cows which he might fancy. 
The animal selected, and most gratefully accepted, was 
an Alderney, and worth about fifty dollars. And this is 
only one of many similar instances which might and 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 131 

will be recorded to the astonishing liberality of Mr. Web- 
ster. 

The following neat and graceful speech was delivered 
before the Agricultural Convention, held in the City of 
Washington in June, 1852, on the occasion of the society's 
calling upon Mr. Webster to pay their respects. 

'' Mr. Wilder, and Gentlemen of the United States 
Agricultural Society, — I am happy to see you one and 
all. You do me no more than justice when you call me 
farmer of Marshfield. My father was a farmer, and I am 
a farmer. When a boy among my native hills of New 
Hampshire, no cock crowed so early that I did not hear 
him, and no boy ran with more avidity to do errands at the 
bidding of the workmen than I did. You are engaged in 
a noble enterprise. The prosperity and glory of the Union 
are based upon the achievements of agriculture. 

" Grentlemen, I will say to you what I have never be- 
fore said, that when, at forty-five years of age, I was called 
to Dartmouth College to pass my second graduation, I de- 
termined, in my humble manner, to speak of the agricul- 
tural resources of the country, and to recommend for their 
more full development organized action and the formation 
of agricultural societies ; and if memory does not betray 
me, it was about the period of time that the first agricul- 
tural societies in this country were formed in old Berk- 
shire and Philadelphia. (Loud cheers by delegates from 
Pennsylvania and Massachusetts.) And though I have 
never seen that unimportant production since that day, 
the partiality of some of my curious friends (bowing and 



132 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

laughing) may be gratified by exploring among the slum- 
bering archives of Marshfield. When, some thirty years 
ago, I was at Marshfield, some of my kind neighbors made 
a call to inquire the state of a matter involving a bit of 
law, I told them, ' I have come to reside among you as a 
farmer, and here I talk neither politics nor law.' 

" G-entlemen, I am naturally a farmer. I am most ar- 
dently attached to agricultural pursuits, and though I cul- 
tivate my lands with some little care, yet from the steril- 
ity of the soil, or from neglected husbandry on my part, 
in consequence of my public engagements, they afford no 
subsistence to myself and family. To you, farmers of the 
West and South, the soil of Marshfield may look barren 
and unfruitful. Sometimes the breezes of the broad At- 
lantic fan you ; sometimes, indeed, unkindly suns smite 
you, but I love its quiet shades, and there I shall love to 
commune with you upon the ennobling pursuit in which 
we are so happily engaged. 

" Gentlemen, I thank you for this visit, with which you 
have honored me. My interest and my sympathies are 
identified with yours. I shall remember you and this oc- 
casion which has called you together. 

" I invoke for you an abundant harvest, and if we meet 
not again in time, I doubt not that hereafter we shall meet 
in a more genial clime, and under a kinder sun. Brother 
farmers, I bid you good-morning." 

Mr. Webster became a communicant of the orthodox 
Church when in the early prime of his life, and the follow- 
ing simple but interesting incident has become a fireside 



DAJNIEL WEBSTER. 



133 



tale in and about the town of Franklin. The only person 
who occupied the pew with him at the time was a very 
poor and a very old woman, and during the singing of the 
hymn which concluded the services, he offered a part of 
his book to his companion, and the twain sang from the 
same page. The descendants of that woman, if indeed 
there are any, may well feel pleased to remember, and to 
talk about the scene in view of the events which have 
since transpired. 

The following incident illustrates the coolness which 
Mr. Webster exhibited when exposed to danger. When, 
on one occasion at night, we were returning from Elms 
Farm in the autumn of 1851, the entire train of cars was 
thrown off the track, and all broken to pieces, excepting 
the car in which he was seated. The position into which 
this car was forced was on the side of a bank, at an angle 
of forty-five degrees. The moment it was possible, the 
passengers rushed out in the greatest consternation, and 
when the writer hurriedly urged him to follow the crowd, 
he firmly retained his seat, and quietly replied, " Can you 
inform me to what part of the world we are traveling ? 
I have paid my fare to Boston, and I will thank the loco- 
motive to proceed to its original destination." 

And when, a few moments afterward, he saw the loco- 
motive almost in the centre of a neighboring field, and 
knew that some half dozen cattle had been killed, he re- 
peated his remarks, and threw all who heard him into 
good humor. 



134 



PRIVATE LIFE OF 



A little incident which occurred only a day or two be- 
fore Mr. Webster's death, illustrates in some degree the 
power of a strong will over even an enfeebled frame. A 
document for the State Department was brought to him 
to sign. His signature was appended, but by a hand so 
tremulous that it could hardly be recognized. " Bring me 
another," said Mr. Webster, cheerfully, as he looked upon 
his work. " It will never do to send that to Washington; 
they will think it came from a sick man." Then, nerving 
himself with a strong effort of will, he seized his pen again, 
and affixed as bold and decided a signature as ever in his 
days of youthful, healthful prime. '' There, that will 
do," said the expiring secretary, as he sank back again, 
exhausted. 

The gracefulness with which Mr. Webster was in the 
habit of doing even the most trifling things can hardly be 
better illustrated than by printing a couple of his auto- 
graphic notes, of which he must have written many thou- 
sands, in reply to earnest solicitations. The following were 
addressed to the younger daughters of one of his best 
friends, R. B. Coleman, Esq. : 

" Dear Phebe Coleman, 
" I was much obliged to your mother for bringing yon 
to see me when I was at the Astor House. I send you 
my autograph, and pray you to believe that, for your fa- 
ther's and mother's sake, as well as your own, I shall al- 
ways be your friend, 

" Danl. Webster. 



(( 



daniel webster. 135 

" Dear Miss Emeline Coleman, 
■' I remember your bright eyes, and am happy to send 
you an autograph, accompanied with sincere good wishes 
for your health and happiness. 

^' Danl. Webster." 

These were written from the State Department, and at 
a moment when he was particularly pressed with the cares 
of business. 

As Mr. Webster has acquired some celebrity as an an- 
gler, it may gratify his piscatorial friends to learn when 
the seeds of this art were planted in his affections. In 
the spring of his fifth year, when a barefooted boy, he 
happened to be riding along a road near his birth-place, 
on the same horse with his father, when the latter sud- 
denly exclaimed, '' Dan, how would you like to catch a 
trout ?" Of course, he replied that he would like nothing 
better ; whereupon they dismounted, and the father cut a 
hazel rod, to which he attached a string and hook out of 
his pocket, baited it with a worm from under a stone, and 
told his son to creep upon a rock and carefully throw in 
on the further side of a deep pool. The boy did as he was 
bidden, hooked a fish, lost his balance, and tumbled into 
the water over his head, and was drawn ashore by his 
father, with a pound trout trailing behind. It has hap- 
pened to the writer to see the pool in which this trout was 
captured. 

And it may be mentioned as rather a singular fact, that 
the only law which he drew up and caused to be passed, 



136 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

when for a short time in the Legislature of Massachusetts, /^ 



was a law for the protection of the common trout and other 
game fish. 

A correspondent furnishes the follov/ing anecdote : "It 
will be recollected that Mr. Webster's continuance in Mr. 
Tyler's cabinet caused considerable shyness on the part 
of many of his old political associates toward him. After 
a brief period, the illustrious statesman concluded the 
celebrated treaty with England, which won for him a 
world-wide renown. At this juncture a prominent citizen 
gave a splendid banquet in Washington, at which were a 
large number of senators and members of the House of 
Representatives. The convivialities had just commenced, 
when the dignified form of Webster was seen entering the 
parlor, and, as he advanced, his big eyes surveyed the 
company, recognizing, doubtless, some of those who had 
become partially alienated from him. On the instant, up 
sprung a distinguished patriotic senator from one of the 
large Southern States, who exclaimed, ' G-entlemen, I have 
a sentiment to propose : The health of our eminent citizen, 
the negotiator of the Ashburton treaty.' The company 
enthusiastically responded. Webster instantly replied, ' I 
have also a sentiment for you : The Senate of the United 
States, without which the Ashburton treaty would have 
been nothing, and the negotiator of that treaty less than 
nothing.' The quickness and fitness of this at once ban- 
ished every doubtful or unfriendly feeling. The company 
clustered around the magnate, whose sprightly and edify- 
ing conversation never failed to excite admiration, and the 



k 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 137 

remainder of the evening was spent in a manner most 
agreeable to all." 

About the year 1820, Mr. Webster was accustomed to 
spend the summer months at Dorchester, Massachusetts. 
Upon his becoming an inhabitant of the town, he called 
upon the late Dr. Codman, with whom he held similar re- 
ligious opinions, and remarked, " Sir, I am come to be one 
of your parishioners — not one of your fashionable ones ; 
but you will find me in my seat both in the morning and 
in the afternoon." He was true to his word, and a friend- 
ship commenced between him and his pastor which con- 
tinued till the death of the latter, a few years since, and 
to which Mr. Webster alluded, shortly before his own de- 
parture, in terms of affectionate remembrance. Dr. Cod- 
man was accustomed to relate the following anecdote of 
Mr. Webster, which shows, in a singular degree, the won- 
derful power of fascination which the great orator possessed 
— the unspoken eloquence, if it may so be termed, of his 
commanding appearance : 

One Sunday afternoon the services of the church were 
to be conducted by a young student from Andover, who 
was for the first time to address a large assembly. He 
commenced reading the opening hymn, but as he proceed- 
ed, his voice faltered, and he concluded with difficulty. 
He sat down, pleading inability to proceed with the other 
exercises, which the doctor accordingly conducted in his 
stead. 

When questioned, after church, as to the cause of his 
strange behavior, he replied, that he felt ashamed to ac- 



138 PRIVATE LIFE OP 

knowledge the truth ; but it was, to use his own expres- 
sion, " those great, black, piercing eyes in the broad aisle 
that frightened every idea from my head." And he knew 
not, till he was then told, that Daniel Webster was a mem- 
ber of the congregation. 

Among the items of piscatorial information which have 
dropped from the lips of Mr. Webster are the following : 
When he was a boy, the imperial salmon, as well as shad, 
annually visited the Merrimack River in immense num- 
bers ; and among the discoveries that he then made was 
this, that while the latter fish invariably and exclusively 
ascended the AYinnipiseogee, the former never failed to 
continue their journey further up the Merrimack. It 
often happened, too, that they left the tide- water in com- 
pany, but as surely as they approached their parting-place 
they parted in masses, and wxre soon as widely removed 
from each other as honest politicians are from fanatical 
abolitionists. The discovery in question prompted inves- 
tigation, when it was found that the temperature of the 
two streams was very different ; for while one of them 
was rather warm, and ran out of the great Lake Winni- 
piseogee, the other flowed from the ice-cold springs of the 
White Mountain; and the further fact was ascertained, 
that while the shad preferred to cast its spawn in deep 
and quiet waters, the salmon accomplished the same end 
in the most shallow and rapid streams among the hills. 

Mr. Webster also once mentioned to the writer the fol- 
lowing circumstances of a kindred character. In speak- 
ing of the blue-fish (the tailor of Chesapeake Bay), he said 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 139 

that its favorite food at the North was the moss-bunker or 
bony herring, and that it was one of the very few fish 
which masticate their food instead of swallowing it whole ; 
and hence it is that their line of travel is usually desig- 
nated by an oily scum which covers the water when a 
school is swimming by. This scum is designated by the 
fishermen as a sticky and when one of them is seen upon 
the surface of the ocean the fisherman is certain of get- 
ting into a school of blue-fish, and of course enjoys fine 
sport. 

In speaking of the tautog or black-fish, he also men- 
tioned the singular circumstance, that it was within his 
recollection when this fish was entirely unknown in Mas- 
sachusetts Bay, though abundant there at the present 
time. One Captain Crocker transported from Buzzard's 
Bay to Massachusetts Bay, some fifteen years ago, a large 
number of these fish, a subscription having been raised by 
gentlemen of Boston to defray the expenses. This is the 
origin of the black-fish in Massachusetts Bay. The writer 
happens to know from experience that it is not taken as 
far south as Chesapeake Bay, excepting once and a while 
one in the harbor of Charleston, whose ancestors were 
transported there a few years ago by way of experiment. 
It is also his opinion that the Maskelonge was so named 
by the French, and means long ?nask ; and the term pick- 
erel, he thinks, belongs properly to the pike when half 
groivn. In speaking of the trout, he was in the habit of 
calling him the '' highway robber of the streams;" and 
all trout fishers will perceive the appropriateness of the ex- 
pression. 



140 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

On one occasion (when first Secretary of State, but at 
home on a brief visit), he happened to be out fishing for 
mackerel in his smack, off Marshfield. The fish were 
abundant, and there was quite a number of local fisher- 
men on the ground. While the sport was at its height, 
however, Mr. Webster discovered in the offing, rapidly ap- 
proaching, what he supposed to be a stranger sail. He 
questioned Seth Peterson in regard to the matter, and was 
convinced that his suspicions and fears were correct ; 
whereupon he impatiently demanded in what direction, 
wath the present wind, the smack could sail the fastest? 
The reply was, "With her eye toward Halifax;" when 
Mr. Webster exclaimed, " It's a hard case. Skipper, but 
press forward with all speed, for the master of yonder ves- 
sel is evidently an office-seeker.''^ 

The truth was, there lived a man in the neighboring 
town of Scituate who had for months past been bothering 
him for an appointment, so that the fears of the Secretary 
were wxll grounded. 

Forty years ago a journey from Washington City to 
New England was an important undertaking, and during 
the early spring months almost an impossibility. The 
consequence was, that, at the adjournment of Congress, a 
party of members from the North would sometimes club 
together, and, chartering a comfortable vessel, return home 
by water. Of such a party was Mr. Webster a member in 
the spring of 1812, and, though they anticipated a tedious 
voyage, he was the only individual who had the sagacity 
to take with him a collection of books. Of all those who 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 141 

profited "by these books, there was one honorable gentle- 
man who was more famous for his much speaking than 
for his wisdom, and in this particular not unlike some of 
his successors of the present day. The first book that he 
lighted upon was Gulliverh Travels, and in this he was 
so intensely interested as to read it through a number of 
times, at the expense occasionally of sweet sleep and warm 
dinners ; and when he returned the volume, he thanked 
Mr. Webster for the use thereof, told him it was one of 
the most interesting books he had ever read, and then 
added, "Do you really believe, sir, that it is an authentic 
record?'' "As a matter of course," replied Mr. Webster, 
"since it is distinguished for its remarkable minuteness.'' 

Many years ago, when Mr. Webster was traveling 
through the State of Ohio, accompanied by a friend, he 
chanced to stumble upon a jovial party of Buckeye farm- 
ers who were enjoying the sport of a turkey-shooting 
match. Having pulled up his horses for the purpose of 
satisfying his curiosity, he was invited to try his hand, 
and accepted the offer. He selected what he thought 
one of the best rifles, examined it with the air of a good 
shot, raised it to his eye, and sent a bullet directly 
through the centre of the target. The biggest of the tur- 
keys was immediately presented to him, and then the 
Buckeye gentlemen worked themselves into a state of ex- 
citement as to who the stranger marksman could be. 
They invited him to partake of a dinner with them at the 
adjoining tavern, and he assented. Wliile at the table, 
Mr. Webster's friend thought it his duty to introduce the 



142 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

'' great unknown" to the company ; and, having done so, 
what was their astonishment to learn that he was the 
same man who had delivered a famous speech in Congress. 
He, of course, gratified his newly-made friends by address- 
ing them a few appropriate remarks ; and when he con- 
tinued his journey, they accompanied him on the way a 
distance of twenty miles. And they tried hard, too, to 
induce him to make another of his "crack shots;" but 
he w^as, of course, too sagacious to run the risk of losing 
his recently-acquired reputation. 

A writer in the " Virginia Advocate." who happened to 
hear Mr. Webster's speech in reply to Colonel Hayne, thus 
uniquely chronicled his opinion of the orator : 

" He was a totally different thing from any public 
speaker I ever heard. I sometimes felt as if I were look- 
ing at a mammoth treading, at an equable and stately 
pace, his native cane-brake ; and, without apparent con- 
sciousness, crushing obstacles which nature had never 
designed as impediments to him." 

On one occasion, in 1834, just as Mr. Webster had risen 
in his seat to present a memorial to the Senate, a person 
seated in the gallery, and having the appearance of a 
preacher, suddenly shouted out, " My friends, the country 
is on the brink of destruction. Be sure that you act on 
correct principles. I warn you to act as your consciences 
may approve. God is looking down upon you, and if you 
act upon correct principles you will get safely through." 
As soon as he had made an end of this brief oration, he 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 143 

very leisurely stepped Lack, and made his way out of the 
gallery before the officers of the House had time to reach 
him. The President and Senate were all surprised, and it 
was some time before the usual tranquillity was re tored. 
During the commotion Mr. Webster had remained stand- 
ing, and the first sentence that he uttered was this : "^5 
the gentleman in the gallery has concluded, I ivill pro- 
ceed luith my remarks.''^ 

When Mr. Webster was at the Capon Springs, the yeo- 
manry of that portion of Virginia came a distance of fifty 
miles to shake him by the hand, one old Revolutionary 
soldier having lualked no less than fifteen miles ; and it is 
said that when he concluded the address there delivered, 
an old man went toward him with tottering steps, and, 
having put his arms around him, exclaimed, " Grod bless 
you, for you are the greatest and best man in the world !" 
The address in question had some very eloquent passages, 
and produced a great sensation. 

The following circumstance is a somewhat remarkable 
instance of the effect of Mr. Webster's eloquence. There 
had been a constitutional question pending between the 
Charlestown and Warren bridges, which connect the city 
of Boston with the main-land, and Mr. Webster had deliv- 
ered an argument in favor of the former, when the price 
of the shares thereof immediately rose from two hundred 
to twelve hundred dollars. 

A gentleman of Nantucket once accosted a friend by 



144 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

saying, " I have wished to see you for some days, for I 
am in trouble, and wish your friendly advice." " What 
can it be ?" replied the other. " Why, I have a lawsuit, 
and Webster is opposed to me ; what shall I do?" " My 
advice is," was the answer, "that your only chance of 
escape is to send to Smyrna and import a young" earth- 
quake /" 

When Mr. Webster was in Charleston, South Carolina, 
in 1847, he concluded a brief speech in the following 
manner : 

" Grentlemen, allow me to tell you of an incident. At 
Raleigh, a gentleman purposing to call on me, asked his 
son, a little lad, if he did not wish to go and see Mr. Web- 
ster. The boy answered, ' Is it that Mr. Webster who 
made the spelling-book, and sets me so many hard lessons ; 
if so, I never want to see him as long as I live.' 

" Now, gentlemen, I am thau Mr. Webster who holds 
sentiments on some subjects not altogether acceptable, I 
am sorry to say, to some portions of the South. But I set 
no lessons. I make no spelling-books. If I spell out some 
portions of the Constitution of the United States in a man- 
ner different from that practiced by others, I readily con- 
cede, nevertheless, to all others a right to disclaim my spell- 
ing, and adopt an orthography more suitable to their own 
opinions, leaving all to that general public judgment to 
which we must, in the end, all submit." And when he 
took his seat, the following toast was submitted : " Here's 
to the airreeable schoolmaster — who sets no lessons." 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 145 

At the time that Colonel Hayne made his attack upon 
Mr. "Webster in the Senate, that paragon of a man and po- 
litical writer, Joseph Gales ^ Esq., happened to be present. 
Hearing that Mr. Webster intended to reply, and would 
probably be quite brief, he resolved to try his hand, for 
this particular occasion, at his long-neglected vocation of 
short-hand reporter. He undertook the task, but finding 
that the "reply" was likely to occupy a number of hours 
instead of some thirty minutes, the magnitude of the labor 
that it would be to write out his notes appeared so formi- 
dable that he slu'unk from it as an impossibility, with the 
many engagements that demanded his attention. The 
friends of Mr. Webster urged upon Mr. Grales the impera- 
tive necessity of writing out the speech, but the prospect 
was gloomy, when suddenly an intimation was received 
from Mrs. Grales (w^ho had in former years been in the 
habit of assisting her husband in elaborating his reports) 
that she would do all in hei; power to wi-ite out the speech 
in full. The result was, that in the course of a week a 
copy was presented to Mr. Webster in the handwriting 
of Mrs. Grales, and when published in the National In- 
telligencer had an unprecedented circulation. The orig- 
inal notes, adorned with a few unimportant alterations 
in the handwriting of Mr. Webster himself, were subse- 
quently neatly bound in a volume, and now constitute 
one of the attractions of Mr. Grales' private library. And 
the writer of this paragraph has been informed by Mr. 
Gales that the superb speech in question was far more 
brilliant and impressive in its delivery than it now ap- 
pears upon paper. 



146 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

In the great argumentative conflict between Mr. Web- 
ster and Colonel Hayne, the latter complained of the form- 
er's assault upon him instead of Colonel Benton, who had 
preceded him in the debate, and who was the originator 
of the controversy. Mr. Webster, who had never thought 
proper before that time to notice Colonel Benton in debate, 
replied to Colonel Hayne, " that it was a matter of no con- 
sequence who was the drawer, he had found a responsible 
endorser, and he chose to look to him." 

At a dinner party a few evenings thereafter, Mr. Web- 
ster and Mr. Preston, of South Carolina (Hayne's successor 
in the Senate), happened to be placed opposite to each 
other at table, and were indulging in sportive conversation, 
when (in reference to something Mr. Webster playfully ad- 
dressed to a lady beside him) Mr. Preston observed to Mr. 
Webster, " I will maintain any thing the lady asserts." 
Mr. Webster replied, '' that he should require no endorser 
for the lady." '• And yet," rejoined Mr. Preston, " I have 
known you to resort to an endorser in preference to a draw- 
er." The allusion was manifest, and though appreciated 
for its wit, was more highly thought of as evidencing the 
elevated tone of feeling which could render subservient to 
purposes of social pleasure even the sharpest weapons of 
political warfare. 

On the evening following the delivery of the reply to 
Colonel Hayne there was a reception at the White House, 
and the rival champions happening to be present on the 
occasion, were of course the lions. The east-room was 
crowded to excess, and while Mr. Webster stood at one end, 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



147 



chatting with his friends, apparently but little exhausted 
by the exertion of the day, severe as it had been, the flush 
of excitement still lingering upon his noble countenance. 
Colonel Hayne stood at the other, receiving the congrat- 
ulations of his friends, and bearing himself like a Southern 
gentleman, as he was in every particular, and as if the 
idea of being numbered with the vanquished had never 
entered his mind. AVith others, he went up to compliment 
Mr. AVebster on his brilliant effort ; but, before he had a 
chance to speak, the former accosted him with his usual 
courtesy, " How are you this evening, Colonel Hayne?" 
To which the colonel replied, good-humoredly, " Notie the 
better for you^ sir I''"' 

Portraits and busts of Mr. Webster have been executed 
almost without number, but no artist has had better op- 
portunities of representing him, or has succeeded more com- 
pletely than Mr. Healey. His picture of the United States 
Senate Chamber, as it appeared during the delivery of the 
famous reply to Colonel Hayne, is a production of merit 
and value, and a worthy representation of the memorable 
scene. The subject was, indeed, a passive one, and did not 
admit of any display of merely physical action, but the in- 
terest was that of pure intellect and matter-of-fact patri- 
otism, wherein it differed materially from what are gen- 
erally termed historical paintings. It is, however, an his- 
torical picture of a high order, for it contains veritable por- 
traits of one hundred and thirty persons, a large propor- 
tion of whom are distinsrnished /American statesmen ; 
while the remainder are composed of some of the chief 



^ / 



148 1' R I V A T E LIFE OF 

literary men of the country, and a few of the ladies who 
adorned the society of Washington City at the time of the 
great debate. In the centre of this truly splendid audi- 
ence stands Mr. Webster, noble beyond compare in mere 
stature, but with a flood of the most elevated thought 
beaming from his countenance. He stands directly in 
front of the President of the Senate (Mr. Calhoun) ; but in- 
stead of looking at him, at his antagonist (Colonel Hayne), ^ 
or at the audience, he seems to be in a momentary trance, 
with his eyes fixed on vacancy, as if marshaling his 
thoughts for this burst of eloquence. 

"While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, grati- 
fying prospects spread out before us, for us and our chil- 
dren. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the vail. G-od 
grant that in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise. 
G-od grant that on my vision never may be opened what 
lies behind. When my eyes shall be turned to behold, 
for the last time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him 
shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once 
glorious Union ; on states dissevered, discordant, belliger- 
ent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may 
be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and linger- 
ing glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the Re- 
public, now known and honored throughout the earth, 
still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming 
in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor 
a single star obscured ; bearing for its motto no such mis- 
erable interrogatory as. What is all this ivorth ? Nor 
those other words of delusion and folly. Liberty firsts and 
Union afterward ; but every where spread all over in 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



149 



characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, 
as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every 
wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment dear 
to every true American heart, Liberty and Union, now 

AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE !" 

Mr. Healey's picture was the result of several laborious 
years, and he may congratulate himself with the reflection 
that he has not only produced a work of excellence in it- 
self, both as a gallery of portraits, but as an historical pic- 
ture, and one also which will increase in value continually. 

Wlien he first formed the purpose of painting this pic- 
ture, he was engaged in executing a series of portraits of 
the Presidents of the United States, and other distinguish- 
ed American statesmen, under a commission from the late 
King of the French, who desired to add them to the great 
historical collection in the Royal Museum of Yersailles. 
Mr. Healey was also subsequently engaged in painting 
the portraits of historical personages in England, for the 
same patron and the same destination, at which time he 
was kindly permitted to suspend this commission, in order 
that he might repair to America and paint from life the 
likenesses introduced in the large picture. Before he could 
resume his labors in England, the revolution of 1848 term- 
inated the royal commission ; but he returned to France 
with the fruit of his studies and labors in this country, 
that he might be able to mature the composition and com- 
plete the execution of his great picture, with the advantage 
of constant reference to the productions of the old masters, 
and in the spring of 1851 the work was completed. 

The last daguerreotype portrait of Mr. Webster, taken 



150 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

in July last, was presented by him to the writer, and, it 
may he imagined, is treasured with special care ; and the 
only full-length daguerreotype of him in existence is the 
one in the writer's possession. Both of the above were 
taken at Elms Farm : the latter at the suggestion of the 
writer, who had asked Mr. Webster to seat himself for 
only a moment, directly in front of his residence, under 
a tree that he had planted thirty years ago. 

A sanctimonious lady once called upon Mr. Webster, in 
Washington, with a long and pitiful story about her mis- 
fortunes and poverty, and asked him for a donation of 
money to defray her expenses to her home in a Western 
city. He listened with all the patience he could manage, 
expressed his surprise that she should have called upon 
him for money simply because he was an officer of the 
government, and that, too, when she was a total stranger 
to him, reprimanded her in very plain language for her 
improper conduct, and handed her a note of fifty dollars. 

The followinsf characteristic anecdote is related of Mr. 
Webster, and is said to have occurred when he was much 
engaged in the Senate, at a period of great excitement in 
the councils of the nation : 

He had called upon the cashier of the bank where he 
kept an account, for the purpose of getting a draft dis- 
counted, when that gentleman expressed some surprise, 
and casually inquired why he wanted so much money ? 
" To spend ; to buy bread and meat," replied Mr. Webster, 
a little annoyed at this speech. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 151 

'^But," returned the cashier, ''you already have upon 
deposit in the bank no less than three thousand dollars, 
and I was only wondering why you wanted so much 
money." 

This was indeed the truth, but Mr. Webster had forgot- 
ten it. In devoting his mind to the interests of his coun- 
try, he had forgotten his own. 

Those who have blamed Mr. Webster for his occasional 
apparent indifference to the questions which agitate the 
public mind will do well to remember that his motto was, 
that 

^^So7?ie questions ivill improve hy keeping P 

His whole career as a statesman and a diplomatist has 
illustrated the wisdom of this course of conduct, and, in- 
deed, it is the only one upon which a solid and permanent 
reputation can be built. The history and present position 
of the journal known as the National Intelligencer con- 
stitute another prominent illustration of the truth of the 
motto. 

It is undoubtedly a fact beyond dispute, that no Amer- 
ican has been more frequently entertained at compliment- 
ary dinners, during the last half century, than Mr. Web- 
ster ; and it has occurred to the writer that his readers 
might be pleased to peruse the following toasts or senti- 
ments. They are selected from a large number of similar 
character, and may be considered as fairly echoing the 
opinions of the public in regard to their distinguished 
subject : 



152 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

Bangor. 
Daniel Webster. The pride of his country and the glory of human 
nature. 

HaUov:eU. 
Our distinguished Guest. The Granite State has the honor of his birth, 
the Bay State of his residence, but to the Federal Union belong his serv- 
ices and talents. 

The Granite State. She has well deserved the name, since she has pro- 
duced a mighty rock, our only defense against general corruption. 

Boston. 
Our distinguished Guest. Worthy the noblest homage which freemen 
can give or a freeman receive — ^the homage of their hearts. 

Concord. 
Daniel Webster. A working-man of the first order. New Hampshire 
rejoiced in the -promise of the youth; his country now glories in the fer- 
f or mance of the man. 

New York. 

Our Guest, Daniel Webster. To his talents we owe a most triumphant 
vindication of the great principles of the Constitution. 

The State of Massachusetts. Honored in a citizen who is received with 
the acclamations of the world. 

Albany. 
Tlie Constitution of the United States and Daniel Webster, inseparable 
now, and inseparable in the records of time and eternity. 

Syracuse. 
The Constitution and its greatest expounder ; the Union and its ablest 
defender. 

Baltimore. 
Daniel Webster. His countr)Tnen award him the proudest honors of 
statesmanship, and the republic has recorded his services on the endur- 
ing pillars of her Union. 

His country will never forget that his fame has extended her own 
among the nations of the world. 

Capon Springs. 
Daniel Webster, our distinguished Guest. The jurist and statesman, who 
has illustrated the glory of onr country. The champion of the Constitu- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 15 



n 



tion and the Union, who has sown the seed of constitutional liberty broad- 
cast over the world. 

Annapolis. 
Daniel Webster. Maryland shows her attachment to the Union by hon- 
oring its ablest defender. 

Cincinnati. 
The Constitution of the United States. Ambiguous and obscure only to 
the ambitious and corrupt ; when assailed by such, may there ever be 
found among the people a Daniel ivho can interpret the writing. He may 
be cast among lions, as many as you please ; but even there will he be 
found the master-spirit. 

The following was sent to a dinner-party by a lady : 

Daniel Webster. 

" Westward the Eastern star has bent its way, 
May more than empire bless its cloudless ray." 

Charleston. 
Our Guest. He has^ a heart big enough to comprehend his whole coun- 
try — a head wise enough to discern her best interests ; we cheer him on 
his way to view her in all her various aspects ; well assured that the 
more he sees of her the better he will like her. 

And it may be well to mention here that the town of 
Salem, Massachusetts, claims the honor of having been the 
first to toast him as the Defemder of the Constitution. 
The exact reading of the toast, as the Hon. Edward Ev- 
erett informed the writer, was as follows : " The highest 
honors of the Constitution to its ablest defender." 

Letters of inquiry have frequently been written to Mr. 
Webster respecting the authenticity of the famous speech 
introduced by him as that of John Adams's, in his dis- 
course on the death of Adams and Jefferson, at Faneuil 
Hall, in 1826, and the following is one of his replies. The 

a 2 



154 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

speech in question was simply an effort, founded upon a 
custom of the ancient historians. 

"Washington, December 31st, 1849. 
" Dear Sir, 

" I have had very frequent occasions to answer the same 
inquiry as that which' you propose to me in your letter of 
the 26th of this month. The speech to which you refer is 
my composition. The Congress of the Revolution sat with 
closed doors, and there is no report of the speeches of mem- 
bers on adopting the Declaration of Independence. We 
only know that John Adams spoke in favor of the measure 
with his usual power and fervor. In a letter, written from 
Philadelphia soon after the Declaration was made, he said 
it was an event which would be celebrated in time to 
come by bonfires, illuminations, and other modes of public 
rejoicing. And on the day of his death, hearing the ring- 
ing of bells, he asked the occasion, and being told that it 
was the 4th of July, and that the bells were ringing for 
Independence, he exclaimed, ' Independence forever !" 
These expressions were used, in composing the speech, as 
beins: characteristic of the man, his sentiments, and his 
manner of speech and elocution. All the rest is mine. 
" With respect, your obedient servant, 

" Danl. Webster. 

" Samuel N. Sweet, Esq." 

In another letter upon the same subject, he writes, 
" The speech was written by me, in my house in Boston, 
the day before the delivery of the discourse in Faneuil 
Hall. A poor substitute, I am sure, it would appear to 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 155 

be, if we could now see the speech actually made by Mr. 
Adams on that transcendently important occasion." 

Mary Russell Mitford, in her recently published " Rec- 
ollections of a Literary Life," gives us the following par- 
ticulars : 

'' One of the greatest, if not the very greatest, of the 
living orators of America, is, beyond all doubt, Daniel 
Webster. That he is also celebrated as a statesman and 
a lawyer, is a matter of course in that practical country, 
where even so high a gift as eloquence is brought to bear 
on the fortunes of individuals and the prosperity of the 
commonwealth ; no idle pilaster placed for ornament, but 
a solid column aiding to support the building. A column, 
indeed, stately and graceful, with its Corinthian capital, 
gives no bad idea of Mr. Webster ; of his tall and muscular 
person, his massive features, noble head, and the general 
expression of placid strength by which he is distinguished. 
This is a mere fanciful comparison ; but Sir Augustus Call- 
cott's fine figure of Columbus has been reckoned very like 
him — a resemblance that must have been fortuitous, since 
the picture was painted before the artist had ever seen the 
celebrated orator. When in England some ten or twelve 
years ago, Mr. Webster's calm manner of speaking excited 
much admiration, and perhaps a little surprise, as con- 
trasted with the astounding and somewhat rough rapidity 
of progress which is the chief characteristic of his native 
land. And yet that calmness of manner was just what 
might be expected from a countryman of Washington; 
earnest, thoughtful, weighty, wise. No visitor to London 



156 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

ever left behind him pleasanter recollections, and I hope 
that the good impression was reciprocal. Every body was 
delighted with his geniality and taste ; and he could hardly 
fail to like the people who so heartily liked him. Among 
our cities and our scenery, he admired that most which 
was most worthy of his admiration ; preferring, in common 
with many of the most gifted of his countrymen, our beau- 
tiful Oxford, whose winding streets exhibit such a con- 
densation of picturesque architecture, mixed with water, 
trees, and gardens, with ancient costume, with eager 
youth, with by-gone associations and rising hope, cer- 
tainly to any of our new commercial towns, and perhaps, 
as mere picture, to London herself; and carrying home 
with him, as one of the most precious and characteristic 
memorials of the land of his forefathers, a large collection 
of architectural engravings, representing our magnificent 
Gothic cathedrals, and such of our Norman castles and 
Tudor manor-houses as have escaped the barbarities of 
modern improvers. Yfe are returning ourselves to that 
style now ; but twelve years ago it was his own good taste, 
and not the fashion of the day, that prompted the prefer- 
ence. I owe to his kindness, and to that of my admirable 
friend, Mr. Kenyon, who accompanied him, the honor and 
pleasure of a visit from Mr. Webster and his amiable fam- 
ily in their transit from Oxford to Windsor. My local po- 
sition between these two points of attraction has often pro- 
cured me the gratification of seeing my American friends 
when making that journey. But during this visit a little 
circumstance occurred, so characteristic, so graceful, and so 
gracious, that I can not resist the temptation of relating it. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 157 

" Walking in my cottage garden, we talked naturally 
of the roses and pinks that surrounded us, and of the dif- 
ferent indigenous flowers of our island and of the United 
States. I had myself had the satisfaction of sending to 
my friend, Mr. Theodore Sedgwick, a hamper containing 
roots of many English plants familiar to our poetry ; the 
common ivy — how could they want ivy who had had no 
time for ruins ? — the primrose, and the cowslip, immortal- 
ized by Shakspeare and by Milton ; and the sweet-scented 
violets, both white and purple, of our hedgerows and our 
lanes ; that known as the violet in America (Mr. Bryant 
somewhere speaks of it as ' the yellow violet') being, I sus- 
pect, the little wild pansy (viola tricolor), renowned as 
the love-in-idleness of Shakspeare's famous compliment to 
Queen Elizabeth. Of these we spoke ; and I expressed 
an interest in two flowers known to me only by the vivid 
description of Miss Martineau : the scarlet lily of New 
York and of the Canadian woods, and the frino^ed orentian 
of Niagara. I observed that our illustrious guest made 
some remark to one of the ladies of the party ; but I little 
expected that, as soon after his return as seeds of these 
plants could be procured, I should receive a package of 
each, signed and directed by his own hand. How much 
pleasure these little kindnesses give ! And how many 
such have come to me from over the same wide ocean !" 

As Coleridge saidof Southey, Mr. Webster " possessed, but 
was not possessed by, his genius." No man ever had his 
powers more completely under command. At a moment's 
warning the vast stores of his mind were ready, and the 



158 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

most impromptu speech rolled from his tongue in perfect 
composition. He was always logical in conversation — 
this was his great characteristic — enchained the attention 
of every listener by the driest argument, and had a man- 
ner of the most singularly mixed grace and power. His 
eloquence, when he warmed, was perfectly overpowering, 
and then he came out with a flow of poetry which would 
hardly be thought possible from the severe cast of his 
mind. Harriet Martineau, who met him at a dinner-party 
at the British legation at Washington, said there was no 
merrier man. She describes him as leaning back at his 
ease on the sofa, shaking it with burst after burst of laugh- 
ter, telling stories, cracking jokes, or smoothly discoursing 
to the perfect felicity of the logical part of one's constitu- 
tion. Such was his private boon companionship. Abroad, 
however, he was the stern, plain-dressed, grave republic- 
an ; and the common man who passed him in the street 
thought he could read the cares and responsibilities of the 
whole United States government on his great brow. 

"As a lawyer, pursuing his professional avocations in 
the judicial courts," wrote the sa,me lady, in her " Socie- 
ty in America," '' and as a member of the Senate, he has 
ever formed a striking character. In the Supreme Court, 
where he has often plead before the judges, and in which 
many of those masterly forensic arguments were delivered 
that constitute a considerable portion of his published pro- 
ductions, he is described by an eye-witness as sometimes 
standing firm as a rock, while listening to the chief jus- 
tice delivering a judgment; his large, cavernous eyes 
wide awake, his lips compressed, and his whole counte- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



159 



nance in that intent stillness which instantly fixes the 
eyes of the stranger. It was not uncommon for him to 
saunter into the court, throw himself down, and lean back 
against the table, while seeming to see nothing about 
him ; and there w-as no knowing whether he would by- 
and-by go away, or whether he would rouse himself sud- 
denly and stand up to address the judges. Still, howev- 
er it might turn out, it was amusing to see how the court 
would fill after the entrance of Mr. Webster, and empty 
when he had returned to the Senate Chamber. In his 
pleading, as in his speaking in the Senate, it was inter- 
esting to see one so dreamy and nonchalant roused into 
strange excitement. It was something to watch him 
moved with anxiety in the toil of intellectual conflict ; to 
see his lips tremble, his nostrils expand, the perspiration 
start upon his brow ; to hear his voice vary with emotion, 
and to trace the expression of laborious thought, while he 
paused for minutes together, to consider his notes and de- 
cide upon the arrangement of his argument. 

«' In the Senate his services have always been acknowl- 
edged to be invaluable ; he there displayed industry, en- 
ergy, and sound-headedness. He spoke but seldom ; but 
when he did so, it was generally on some constitutional 
question, where his logical powers and legal knowledge 
were brought into play, and where his authority was con- 
sidered oracular by assemblages of the first men in the 
country. When speaking to the Senate, he invariably 
manifested great earnestness, and seemed to believe every 
sentiment he uttered ; and he convinced by appealing to 
the reasoning powers of his listeners rather than to their 



160 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

passions. Before entering on the delivery of a speech, on 
one occasion, he might be seen, absent and thoughtful, 
making notes. When he rose, his voice was moderate 
and his manner quiet, with the slightest possible mixture 
of embarrassment, his right hand resting upon his desk, 
and the left hanging by his side. Before his first head 
was finished, however, his voice would rise so as to fill 
the chamber, and ring again to the remotest corner ; then 
he would fall back into his favorite attitude, with his left 
hand under his coat skirt and his right in full action. At 
this moment the eye would rest upon him as upon one 
inspired, seeing the invisible and grasping the impalpa- 
ble. When the vision had passed away, the change was 
astonishing ; he sat at his desk writing letters or dream- 
ing, so that he did not always discover when the Senate 
was going into a division. Some one of his party had not 
seldom to jog his elbow, and tell him that his vote was 
wanted." 

The most complete edition of Mr. Webster's writings 
which has yet appeared was published in the spring of 
this year (1852), by Little & Brown, Boston. It was 
edited by the Hon. Edward Everett, and made six large 
handsome volumes. To each of these is prefixed a Dedi- 
cation by Mr. Webster, and their exceeding beauty is the 
writer's apology for reprinting them in this place. They 
also show that he was warm-hearted. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



FIRST VOLUME 



161 



To ray Nieces, • 
MRS. ALICE BRIDGE WHIPPLE, 

and 
MRS. MARY ANN SANBORN. 

"Many of the speeches contained in this volume were 
delivered and printed in the lifetime of your father, whose 
fraternal affection led him to speak of them with appro- 
bation. 

" His death, which happened when he had only just 
passed the middle period of life, left you without a father, 
and me without a brother. 

'« I dedicate this volume to you, not only for the love I 
have for yourselves, but also as a tribute of affection to his 
memory, and from a desire that the name of my brother, 

"EZEKIEL WEBSTER, 
may be associated with mine, so long as any thing written 
or spoken by me shall be regarded or read. 

" Danl. Webster." 



SECOND VOLUME. 



To 
ISAAC P. DAVIS, ESQ. 



"My dear Sir, 

"A warm private friendship has subsisted between us 

for half our lives, interrupted by no untoward occurrence, 

and never for a moment cooling into indifference. Of this 

friendship, the source of so much happiness to me, I wish 



162 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

to leave, if not an enduring memorial, at least an affec- 
tionate and grateful acknowledgment. 

" I subscribe this volume of my speeches to you. 

" Danl. Webster." 



THIRD VOLUME. 



To 

CAROLINE LE ROY WEBSTER. 

'' My dearly beloved Wife, 

" I can not allow these volumes to go to the press with- 
out containing a tribute of my affection, and some ac- 
knowledgment of the deep interest that you have felt in 
the productions which they contain. You have witnessed 
the origin of most of them, not with less concern, certainly, 
than has been felt by their author ; and the degree of fa- 
vor with which they are received by the public will be as 
earnestly regarded, I am sure, by you as by myself. 

" The opportunity seems, also, a fit one for expressing 
the high and warm regard which I ever entertained for 
your honored father, now deceased, and the respect and 
esteem which I cherish toward the members of that ami- 
able and excellent family to which you belong. 

'' Danl. Webster." 



FOURTH VOLUME. 



To 
FLETCHER WEBSTER, Esq. 

" My dear Son, 
*' I dedicate one volume of these speeches to the mem- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 163 

ory of your deceased brother and sister, and I am devout- 
ly thankful that I am able to inscribe another to you, my 
only surviving child, and the object of my affections and 
hopes. You have been of an age, at the appearance of 
most of these speeches and writings, at which you were 
able to read and understand them ; and in the preparation 
of some of them you have taken no unimportant part. 
Among the diplomatic papers there are several written by 
yourself, wholly or mainly, at the time when official and 
confidential connections subsisted between us in the De- 
partment of State. 

" The principles and opinions expressed in these produc- 
tions are such as I believe to be essential to the preserva- 
tion of the Union, the maintenance of the Constitution, 
and the advancement of the country to still higher stages 
of prosperity and renown. These objects have constituted 
my pole-star during the whole of my political life, which 
has now extended through more than half the period of 
the existence of the government. And I know, my dear 
son, that neither parental authority nor parental example 
is necessary to induce you, in whatever capacity, public 
or private, you may be called to act, to devote yourself to 
the accomplishment of the same ends. 
" Your affectionate father, 

'' Danl. Webster." 



164 private life of 

" My dear Sir, 



"? 



" The friendship which has subsisted so long between 
us springs not more from our close family connection than 
from similarity of opinions and sentiments. 

" I count it among the advantages and pleasures of my 
life ; and I pray you to allow me, as a slight but grateful 
token of my estimate of it, to dedicate to you this volume 
of my speeches. Danl. Webster." 



SIXTH VOLUME. 



"With the warmest paternal affection, mingled with 
deeply afflicted feelings, I dedicate this, the last volume 
of my works, to the memory of my deceased children 
"JULIA WEBSTER APPLETON, 



beloved in all the relations of daughter, wife, mother, sis- 
ter, and friend ; and 

"MAJOR EDWARD WEBSTER, 
who died in Mexico, in the military service of the United 
States, with unblemished honor and reputation, and who 
entered that service solely from a desire to be useful to 
his country and do honor to the state in which he was 
born. 

" ' Go, gentle spirits, to your destined rest : 
While I, reversed our nature's kindlier doom, 
Pour forth a father's sorrow on your tomb.' 

"Danl. Webster." 

As the devoted affection which existed between Daniel 
Webster and his brother Ezekiel was one of the peculiar- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



165 



ities of their lives, and as they also resembled each other 
in many particulars, both physical and intellectual, it can 
not but be proper to insert in this place a brief sketch of 
the latter gentleman, from the pen of the late Samuel L. 
Knapp. 

" Ezekiel Webster was two or three years older than 
his brother Daniel, but did not graduate until three years 
after him, in 1804. In coUeo^e he was the first in his 
class ; his intellect was of a very high order ; its capacity 
was general, for he was able to comprehend the abstruse 
and difficult, and at the same time to enjoy the tasteful 
and the elegant. He was distinguished for classical lit- 
erature ; his knowledge of G-reek, particularly, was beyond 
that of his contemporaries in college ; his knowledge of 
English literature was deep and extensive, for he had not 
skimmed over books as a matter of amusement, but he 
looked into them as a man of mind, who intends to draw 
lessons from all he reads. Few men among our scholars 
l^new so much of the English poets as he did ; and he 
valued them as he should have done, as philosophers and 
painters of human nature, from whom much knowledge 
may be obtained to illustrate and adorn what duller minds 
have put into maxims and rules. 

" He made himself master of the law as a science, and 
became well acquainted with its practice in his native 
state. He went up to first principles with the ease and 
directness of a great mind, and separated at once that 
which was casual and local from that which is permanent, 
and founded on the basis of moral justice and the nature 
of man. There seemed no effort in any thing he did ; 



166 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

all was natural and easy, as if intuitive. There was 
nothing about him of that little bustling smartness so oft- 
en seen in ordinary persons striving to perform something 
to attract the attention of the little world around them. 

" His general information was not only extensive, but 
laid up in excellent order, ready for use. He was stead- 
ily engaged in the duties of his profession, but never 
seemed hurried or confused in his business ; he took all 
calmly and quietly ; he did nothing for parade or show, 
or mere effect, nor did he speak to the audience while ad- 
dressing the court and jury. His life was passed in hab- 
its of industry and perseverar.ee, and his accumulations 
of wealth and knowledge were regular and rapid. From 
the commencement of his life, as a reasonable being re- 
sponsible for his own actions, to the close of it, he pre- 
served the most perfect consistency of character ; no par- 
oxysms of passion, no eccentricities of genius, were ever 
found in him. His equanimity was only equaled by his 
firmness of purpose. In this he was most conspicuous ; 
he thought leisurely and cautiously, and having made up 
his mind, he was steadfast and immovable. Having no 
hasty or premature thoughts, he seldom had occasion to 
change his opinions, and was therefore free from those 
mortifying repentances so common to superior minds of 
Avarmer temperament. By honesty of purpose and sound- 
ness of judgment he kept a just balance in weighing all 
matters before him. All his firmness and equanimity, 
and other virtues, seemed constitutional, and not made 
up by those exertions so necessary to most frail beings 
who intend to support a character for steady habits. He 



DANIEL WEBSTER. . 167 

was "blessed with a frame that felt few or no infirmities. 
He suffered no moral or mental weakness in his whole 
path of duty, for his constitution, until within a short time 
of his death, exhibited a sound mind in a sound body, and 
neither appeared essentially injured or decayed to the hour 
of his exit from the world. 

" He never sought public honors, nor literary or polit- 
ical distinctions, and therefore had none of those throes 
and agonies so common to vaulting ambition ; not that 
he declined all public trusts, when he was conscious that 
he could do any good to his fellow-men. He was several 
years a member of one or other branch of the Legislature 
of New Hampshire, and served as a trustee of Dartmouth 
College. He was at different times put up for a member 
of Congress ; but it was at periods when his friends thought 
that his name would do some good to his political party, 
as the members of Congress in New Hampshire are cho- 
sen by a general ticket ; but when they were decidedly 
in power, he would seldom or never consent to be a can- 
didate. This was much to be regretted, for he was ad- 
mirably calculated for public life by his extensive knowl- 
edge and incorruptible integrity. He would have been a 
first-rate speaker on the floor of Congress. His eloquence 
was impressive and commanding. There was in his de- 
livery a slight defect in the labial sounds, in the familiar 
use of his voice, which was rather pleasant to the listener 
than otherwise, for it was a proof of a natural manner ; 
but, warmed by his subject, a more rich, full, and sono- 
rous voice was seldom heard in any public body ; not that 
his tones were delicate or mellifluous, but full of majesty 



168 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

and command ; free from arrogance, timidity, or hesita- 
tion. His gestm-es were graceful, but not in the slightest 
degree studied ; his language was rich, gentlemanly, se- 
lect, but not painfully chosen ; he not only had words for 
all occasions, but the very words he should have used. 

" As a writer, he excelled in judgment and taste ; there 
was a classical elegance in his familiar writings ; and his 
higher compositions were marked with that lucid order, 
and clearness of thought, and purity of expression, which 
distinguished the Augustan Age. His sentences were not 
grappled together by hooks of steel, but connected by gold- 
en hinges that made a harmonious whole. His library 
was rich in works of merit, ancient and modern. The 
history of literature and science was as familiar to him as 
that of his native state, and he had the means of turning 
to it with much greater facility. He was an instance in 
point that a man may be a good lawyer, and yet devote 
some of his time to classical pursuits. 

" Ezekiel Webster was one of those great men, rare in- 
stances in the world, who had thrown away ambition, and 
who professed to be learned and happy in his course of 
life, rather than to court the gale and spread his sails to 
be wafted along on popular opinion. He sought not pop- 
ularity, but he had it ; that poind ar it y luhich folloivs, not 
that ivhich is run after. He watched the signs of the 
times, and was as good a diviner in politics as any one ; 
but, whatever the presages were, he looked at coming 
events unmoved, leaving their results to Heaven. 

" For several of the last years of his life, he was curtail- 
ing his business in order to devote some portion of the 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 169 

prime of his manhood to literary and scientific pursuits, 
so congenial to his heart ; but in this he was disappoint- 
ed, for, while yet in the fullness of his strength, he was 
called to leave the world, for whose benefit he was formed. 
His death was sudden and remarkable ; he fell and ex- 
pired while in the midst of an argument at the bar, with- 
out a sigh or a struggle. No event could have been more 
unexpected by the public, for he was one of those models 
for a picture of health and strength that Salvator Rosa 
would have drawn in his mountain scenery, if he had 
wished to exhibit a commander able to bear the fatigues 
and duties of council and of war. He was lamented by 
his professional brethren, and sincerely mourned by the 
community at large." 

H 



PRIVATE LIFE OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 171 



ILLNESS AND DEATH. 

Weep not, weep not for the mighty dead! In the sun- 
set of his days, and the plenitude of his fame, Daniel Web- 
ster has passed from among the living. His great spirit 
ascended to the skies through the peaceful atmosphere of 
a Sabbath morning, and while the glory of Autumn was 
upon the land. And this was well ; for, through life, he 
habitually hallowed the Sabbath, and loved, above all oth- 
ers, the closing season of the year. But what is more, he 
died a Christian. With all his intellect, when he came to 
resign his soul into the keeping of his Creator, he did it 
with a prayer for mercy, and with the meekness and con- 
fidence of a little child. Who, then, can for an instant 
doubt that he is now in heaven ? As surely as there is an 
All-merciful Savior, he must be among the redeemed. He 
lived as this nation would have its subjects live, and died 
the pride of nature, and, beyond all question, the well-be- 
loved child of Grod. 

He occupied, more completely than any other man of 
his age, the '^vantage-ground'^ to do his country good, 
and therefore he deserves the fame of having been an 
" honest many If honest, he was true ; and if true, he 
was true to his Grod, to his country, to his fellow-men, to 
his family, and true to himself. And thus he died, one 
of the best of men, and the foremost intellect of his time. 



-» 



72 PRIVATE LIFE OF 



But, alas ! it is also true, to use the eloquent figure of 
a chief mourner, the " heart of the nation throbs heavily 
at the portal of Webster's tomb." There are private griefs, 
however, wholly to the world unknown. Among those 
who knew him well and sincerely loved him, I claim the 
right and the privilege to be numbered. On the lonely 
sea, whose ground-swell was an emblem of his beating 
heart — among his native mountains, and in the sanctuary 
of his sick-chamber, have I been his sole companion. He 
was to me like a father, and he uttered words to me which 
I hold sacred as my life. My own feelings toward him 
were those of unbounded admiration ; and yet, when en- 
joying his companionship alone, our relative positions 
seemed mutually to be forgotten ; he descended to my 
level, and I only thought of loving him, and doing my all 
to make him happy. And now, as I think upon his pleas- 
ant ways, his kindly smiles and words, and his noble deeds. 
I feel as if my pen, from very weakness, should abandon 
its present task. Let, then, the voice of eulogy be uttered 
every where by the gifted and the good who have studied 
his intellectual character, while I content myself by re- 
cording some of the more interesting facts attending his 
decline and death. 

I date his more rapid decline from the autumn of last 
year, at which time he was afflicted with one of the se- 
verest attacks of his annual catarrh. I was with him dur- 
ing its entire continuance, and I remember well that I 
\ wondered how any man could endure so much bodily suf- 
fering without a murmur. This singular cold or disease 
was one which had come upon him at a particular period 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 173 

of the year — late in August — for upward of twenty years, 
with the single exception of the summer that he visited 
England. From the autumn of 1851 until the hour of 
his death, he was, to my mind, upon the inclined plane of 
death. I believed this from what I saw, and the belief 
was confirmed by what he sometimes uttered. He often 
alluded to himself as an old man, and, when in certain 
moods, loved to talk about the quiet home appointed for 
all living. I most firmly believe what I now utter, and I 
utter the opinion out of justice to the dead and charity for 
the living. He had too powerful a mind to be killed by 
disappointment, and though it may be well to let the motto 
pass as a poetic and just punishment, it is not true that, 
as a cause and a consequence, he was ^^ rejected andlosty 
The word President would only have dimmed the lustre 
of the name of Daniel Webster ; and if we must sorrow 
that what men expected can never come to pass, let us nut 
weep for him, but for his country. 

And his physicians tell us that his decline was hasten- 
ed by the accident which befell him in the spring of the 
present year. Surely I have cause to feel a terrible inter- 
est in this conclusion. I was with him at the time, seat- 
ed by his side in his own carriage, and I held the reins. 
It was about nine o'clock in the morning, and we were on 
our way to Plymouth on a pleasure excursion. It was 
while he was talking about the hardships endured by the 
Pilgrim fathers, and while our eyes rested upon the mem- 
orable bay, that, in the twinkling of an eye, we were both 
thrown from the carriage on account of the breaking of 
the transom bolt. Not a bit of harm was done to my own 



174 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

worthless body, and, on recovering from the shock, I hast- 
ened to his rescue. When I lifted him up, and saw blood 
clotted with dust streaming down his dome-like forehead, 
I felt as if the very sky would fall and crush me to the 
earth. I helped him, however, into a neighboring house, 
kind friends placed him in a bed, and a physician was 
soon in attendance. He was quite faint for a time, and 
as he lay in this state, the interest manifested by those 
who had come in to see him was intense. Among those 
who stood by was a gentleman, over eighty years of age, 
who had long been a personal friend of his. This person 
was watching the wounded man with most painful anx- 
iety ; but when Mr. Webstei', in answer to some question 
put to him by the doctor, replied with promptness, the old 
man suddenly exclaimed,- " Thank God, he has his rea- 
son /" and, bursting into tears, wept like a child. I subse- 
quently mentioned this fact to Mr. Webster, and he said 
that he had noticed the whole of it himself, and was af- 
fected by the recollection. After remaining near the scene 
of the accident (which was twelve miles from home, and 
only one from Plymouth) about four hours, he was con- 
veyed to Marshfield, and there remained confined to his bed 
and room for about ten days. At that time he was not 
known to have been injured internally, but both his arms 
were very severely bruised and sprained, so that he could 
not write his name for many weeks. During the few days 
immediately succeeding the accident, he was perfectly 
helpless, and suffered very great pain, and yet he was 
cheerful, and told an unusual number of anecdotes. Dur- 
ing this period it was that he sent me to the library for a 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 175 

copy of Milton, and bade me read the first canto aloud 
" slowly and distinctly." As I did so, he would occasion- 
ally interrupt me for the purpose of descanting upon cer- 
tain ideas that he thought ''•wonderfully grand and beau- 
tiful P While yet his arms were confined in a sling, 
though in other respects quite well, he amused himself by 
walking about the mansion — now peering into a closet or 
trunk filled with musty papers, which had been hidden 
from his sight for many years, and now suggesting all 
sorts of little improvements for the comfort and conven- 
ience of the household. And twenty times in the day, 
when the mood was upon him, would he visit the extens- 
ive apartments where were congregated his overseer, the 
various assistants, and his servants, and for every one he 
had a playful compliment and the kindest words. He had 
a fashion of designating me as the " colonel ^^^ and on one 
occasion during this period, he said that he intended to 
make a " general" of me, if I would only continue, until 
he was well again, to o]pen the doors, or force a way at 
his command. In themselves, these little incidents are 
mere trifles, but their association with the greatest mind 
of this country renders them interesting, and I trust the 
reader will forgive my egotism. 

It is somewhat singular that Mr. Webster's two last 
speeches were delivered while upon a kind of triumphal ^ 
march — one of them in Boston, and the other at Marsh- 
field ; and it is also strange but providential, that he should 
finally have been permitted to die at home and surround- 
ed with his kindred. The reception which he met with 
in the former place was the most splendid demonstration 



176 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

of the kind ever witnessed in the country. I never saw a 
more interesting spectacle than was presented in front of 
the Revere House, when he returned to his lodgings at the 
twilight hour in a carriage completely filled with flowers, 
drawn by six white horses, and escorted by a cavalcade 
of nearly one thousand horsemen in military array. The 
speech which he delivered to an immense multitude on 
that occasion was worthy of his fame, and yet, in his own 
opinion and in the opinion of his friends, he was at that 
time a sick man. 

But the moral grandeur of his reception at Marshfield, 
now that his body is in the tomb, positively seems almost 
sublime. He came, as it were, from a field of intellectual 
conquest, where he had battled forty years for his coun- 
try — a conquest such as the world had seldom or perhaps 
never before witnessed. A procession, consisting of thou- 
sands of his neighbors, without respect to party, met him 
at a point eight miles distant from his residence, and es- 
corted him home, while the road was literally lined with 
women and children to welcome him, and garlands with- 
out number were strewn along his pathway. Upon a hill, 
in the immediate vicinity of his mansion, the great con- 
course came to a halt ; they delegated an orator to wel- 
come him with a speech, and his reply was beautiful and 
appropriate to the many, but to the few who lived in his 
shadow there was a tone of sadness in all he uttered. He 
finished his address just as the sun was setting, and I can 
not but think of it as one of the golden clouds which will 
be remembered with the glory of his own departure into 
the night of death. It was the last he ever uttered to a 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 177 

public assembly. And now I remember how, after the 
crowd had disappeared, he entered his mansion fatigued 
beyond all measure and covered with dust, and threw him- 
self into a chair. For a moment his head fell upon his 
breast, as if completely overcome, and he then looked up 
like one seeking something which he could not find. Ir 
was the portrait of his darling but departed daughter Ju- 
lia, and it happened to be in full view. He gazed upon it 
for some time in a kind of trance, and then wept like one 
whose heart was broken, and these words escaped his lips : 
" 0/i, / am so thankful to be here I If I could only have 
my will^ never ^ never ivould I again leave this home .^" 
And then he sought and obtained a night of repose. He 
made one more visit to the seat of government, wound up 
to all intents and purposes his affairs, and now his manly 
form is in that sleep which knows no waking. 

The last time that he ever attended church, it was my 
rare fortune to be his companion. He had been inform- 
ed that the Rev. E. N. Kirk, of Boston, was expected to 
\ preach in Duxbury, some three miles from Marshfield, and 
packing off his guests and a part of his household in a 
couple of carriages, he reserved a gig for himself, and in 
this did we attend. The sermon was on the efficacy of 
prayer, and was distinguished not only for its eloquence, 
but for its powerful arguments. It dealt in nothing but 
pure Bible doctrines as understood by the orthodox Church. 
Mr. Webster listened with marked attention to the whole 
discourse, and, after the services were closed, went up and 
congratulated the preacher. On our return home, his con- 
versation turned upon the sermon, and he said it was a re- 

H2 



178 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

markable, a great effort. He said the arguments adduced 
were unanswerable, and that if a man would only live ac- 
cording to the lessons of such preaching, he would be a 
happy man both in this world and the world to come. He 
said, moreover, " There is not a single sentiment in that 
discourse with which I do not fully concur." And this re- 
mark, when appended, as it ought to be, to the sermon 
when hereafter published, will serve to convince the world 
that his views of religion were most substantial and satis- 
factory. During the whole of our ride home, he conversed 
upon matters contained in, or suggested by the discourse, 
and I deeply regret that I did not take more ample notes 
of what he said on the occasion. The distinct impression 
left upon my mind, however, was that if he were not a 
genuine Christian, the promises of the Bible were all a 
fable ; and G-od knows that I would rather die than, for a 
moment, even imagine such a state of things. 

He was a believer in the G-reat Atonement ; and though, 
living as he did in a sphere of peculiar temptations, he may 
have committed errors, he needed no promptings to lead 
him to a speedy repentance. He was actuated by a spir- 
it of charity which knew no bounds. He treasured no an- 
imosities to his fellow-men, and when once wronged by 
those in whom he had confided with all the guilelessness 
of a child, he did not retaliate, but simply moved in anoth- 
er sphere beyond their reach. He was a student of the 

j Bible, and read it habitually in his family whenever the 
annoyances of his official position did not prevent ; and 
never sat down, when with his family alone, to enjoy the 

A l)nunties of his table, without first imploring a blessing. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 179 

No man ever thought or talked with more reverence of the 
power and holiness of G-od. He came of a race of good 
men ; was baptized into, and became a member, in his col- 
lege days, of the Congregational Church, but died in the 
communion of the Protestant Episcopal Church, of which 
he was a devout member ; and one of the most impressive 
scenes that I ever witnessed, going to prove the matchless 
beauty of our religion, was to see him, in full view of the 
Capitol, the principal theatre of his exploits, upon his knees 
before the altar partaking of the sacrament of the Lord's 
Supper. That spectacle, and the grandeur of his death, 
are to me more eloquent than a thousand sermons from 
human lips. 

In his personal appearance Mr. Webster was an extra- j 
] / ordinary man, and at the age of forty was considered the ' 
handsomest man in Congress. He was above the ordinary 
size, and stoutly formed, but with small hands and feet, 
had a large head, very high forehead, a dark complexion, 
large black, deeply-sunken, and solemn-looking eyes, black 
hair (originally), very heavy eyebrows, and fine teeth. To 
strangers his countenance appeared stern, but when light- , , 
ed up by conversation, it was bland and agreeable. He 
was slow and stately in his movements, and his dress was 
invariably neat and elegant ; his favorite suit for many y 
years having been a blue or brown coat, a buff vest, and 
black pantaloons. His manner of speaking, both in con- 
versation and debate, was slow and methodical, and his 
voice generally low and musical, but when excited, it rang 
like a clarion. 

The more rapid decline of Mr.Webster commenced while 



180 



PRIVATE LIFE OF 



at Marshfield, about one week before his death, which oo- 
curred just before three o'clock on Sunday morning, the 
twenty-fourth of October. He was in the seventy-first 
year of his age, and had, therefore, just passed the allotted 
period of human life. He looked upon his coming fate 
with composure and entire resignation. On the afternoon 
of the twenty-third, he conversed freely, and with great 
clearness and detail, in relation to the disposal of his af- 
fairs. His last autograph letter was addressed to the Pres- 
ident ; and among the directions that he gave respecting 
his monument was, that it should be no larger than those 
erected to the mother of his children, and to Julia and 
Edward. He dictated an epitaph, which will in due time 
be published. 

At five o'clock he was seized with a violent nausea, and 
raised considerable dark matter tinged with blood, which 
left him in a state of great exhaustion and debility. The 
physician in attendance. Dr. John Jeffries, then announced 
to Mrs. Webster that his last hour was rapidly approach- 
ing. He received the announcement calmly, and directed 
all the females of the family to be called into the room, 
and addressed to each of them individually a few affec- 
tionate parting words, and bade them a final farewell. He 
then took leave of his male relatives and personal friends, 
including his farmers and servants, addressing each indi- 
vidually in reference to their past relations, and bade each 
an affectionate adieu. The last of his family that he part- 
ed with was Peter Harvey Webster, a gi-andson, the child 
of Fletcher Webster, for whom he invoked the richest bless- 
ings of Heaven. He then said, as if speaking to himself, 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 181 

^* On the twenty-fourth of October all that is mortal of /' 
Daniel Webster will be no more." In a full and clear 
voice he then prayed most fervently, and impressively con- 
cluded as follows : " Heavenly Father, forgive my sins, and 
welcome me to thyself, through Christ Jesus." Dr. Jef- 
fries then conversed with him, and told him that medical 
skill could do nothing more, to which he replied, " Then 
I am to be here patiently till the end : if it be so, may it 
come soon." His last words were, "J still live f and, 
coming from such lips, it seems to me they can not but 
fully convince the most hardened skeptic of the immortal- 
ity of the soul. They seem to fall upon the ear from be- 
yond the tomb, and to be the language of a disembodied 
spirit passing into paradise. During his last hour he was 
entirely calm, and breathed his life away so peacefully 
that it was difficult to fix the precise moment that he ex- 
pired. 

He died, according to Dr. Jeffries, of disease of the liver. 
The immediate cause of his death was hemorrhage from 
the stomach and bowels, owing to a morbid state of the 
blood consequent upon the above disease. There was also 
dropsy on the abdomen. On making a post-mortem ex- 
amination, it was found that the cerebral organs were of 
the very largest known capacity, exceeding, by thirty per 
centum, the average weight of the human brain ; and with 
only two exceptions (Cuvier and Dupuytren), the largest 
of which there is any record. It is also worthy of remark, 
that a well-marked effusion upon the arachnoid membrane 
was discovered, although there were no perceptible evi- 
dences of any lesion during Mr. Webster's lifetime. It is 



y 



182 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

supposed to have been caused by his severe fall from his 
carriage in Kingston last spring. It is a remarkable phys- 
iological fact, that an injury that would have impaired the 
intellect, if not at once caused death in another, should in 
this instance have been attended v^^ith so little external ev- 
idence of so important an injury to a vital organ. 

He left a w^ill, which was dictated and signed on the 
third day preceding his death, the contents of which I do 
not think it proper to mention at this time. His literary 
executors were Edward Everett, Greorge Ticknor, Greorge 
T. Curtis, and C. C. Felton, who will in due time present 
the country with a rich store of literary wealth. He did 
not forget his friends, but left to many of them slight me- 
morials of his attachment. 

His remains were embalmed, and, instead of a shroud, 
were arrayed in a suit like that he was sometimes fond of | . 
wearing in other days — a blue coat with gilt buttons, 
white cravat, vest, pantaloons, and gloves, silken hose, and 
shoes of patent leather. His coffin, with only his name 
upon it, was elegant but unpretending ; and while it re- 
mained under the roof of the Marshfield mansion, stood 
upon his own favorite writing-table, in the centre of the , 
library, the spot of all others which he loved for the sake / 
of his darling child Julia, who had designed it for him ; 
and the spot, too, with which are associated some of the 
most happy, and altogether the most salutary recollections 
of my life. He was the best friend I ever had, and as he 
taught me all I know, Grod grant that I may hereafter em- 
ulate his manifold virtues. 

The day of his funeral, the twenty-ninth of October, was 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



183 



sunny and cheerful, and his remains were escorted to the 
tomb by some ten thousand friends, countrymen, and lov- 
ers, among whom were many of the most illustrious men 
of the country. The services were performed by the Rev. 
Ebenezer Alden, the pastor of the orthodox Congregation- 
al Church of the town, and were as simple and unpretend- 
ing as had been the inner life of the departed. And when 
the pall of night settled upon the earth, the long rank 
grass upon the tomb of Daniel Webster mingled its rus- 
tling with the sighing of the breeze, and the low, mournful 
requiem of the ocean. 



t 
PRIVATE LIFE OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 185 



CONCLUDING NOTE. 

While this work was going through the press, a re- 
quest was made of the author that he should reserve, for 
the more legitimate use of Mr. Webster's literary execu- 
tors, a certain collection of private letters which he was 
known to have in his possession. The propriety of the 
request was so apparent, it was, of course, willingly com- 
plied with, and it is to he hoped that the official presenta- 
tion to the public of all Mr. Webster's correspondence and 
other literary remains will not be long delayed. The let- 
ters herein published have already appeared in the public 
journals, and were, of course, common property, and, as 
such, were simply employed to illustrate the unvarnished 
records of fact and affection. 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX. 



EULOaY IN BOSTON. 

The following masterly effort of requiem-eloquence was 
delivered at a public meeting of the citizens of Boston, by 
the Hon. Edward Everett This gentleman was a de- 
voted friend and companion of the departed for a much 
longer period than any other man now living, and this fact 
alone is deemed a sufficient apology for giving it a place 
in this volume, in preference to the equally brilliant efforts 
of a hundred others, who have given expression to their 
great admiration and their deep sorrow. It is copied from 
the report as published in the newspapers. 

" Mr. Mayor and Fellow-citizens, 
" I never rose to address an assembly when I was so 
little fit, body or mind, to perform the duty ; and I never 
felt so keenly how inadequate are words to express such 
an emotion as manifestly pervades this meeting in common 
with the whole country. There is but one voice that ever 
fell upon my ear which could do justice to such an occa- 
sion. That voice, alas ! we shall hear no more forever. 
No more at the bar will it unfold the deepest mysteries 
of the law ; no more will it speak conviction to admiring 



190 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

Senates ; no more in this hall, the chosen theatre of his 
intellectual dominion, will it lift the soul as with the swell 
of the pealing organ, or stir the blood with the tones of a 
clarion in the inmost chambers of the heart. 

" We are assembled, fellow-citizens, to pour out the full- 
ness of our feelings ; not in the vain attempt to do honor 
to the great man who is taken from us ; most assuredly, 
not with the presumptuous hope, on my part, to magnify 
his name and his praise. They are spread throughout 
the land. From East to West, and from North to South 
(which he knew, as he told you, only that he might em- 
brace them in the arms of loving patriotism), a voice of 
lamentation has already gone forth, such as has not echoed 
through the land since the death of him who was first in 
war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his country- 
men. 

" You have listened, fellow-citizens, to the resolutions 
which have been submitted to you by Colonel Heard. I 
thank him for offering them. It does honor to his heart, 
and to those with whom he acts in politics, and whom I 
have no doubt he well represents, that he has stepped for- 
ward so liberally on this occasion. The resolutions are 
emphatic, sir, but I feel that they do not say too much. 
No one will think that they overstate the magnitude of 
our loss, who is capable of appreciating a character like 
that of Daniel Webster's. Who of us, fellow-citizens, that 
has known him — that has witnessed the masterly skill 
with which he would pour the full effulgence of his mind 
on some contested legal and constitutional principle, till 
what seemed hard and obscure became as plain as day ; 



DANIEL WEBSTER. ^ 191 

who that has seen him, in all the glory of intellectual as- 
cendency — 

" ' Ride on the whirlwind and direct the stoi-m' 

of parliamentary conflict ; who that has drunk of the pure 
fresh air of wisdom and thought in the volumes of his 
writings ; who, alas ! sir, that has seen him 

" ' in his happier hour 

Of social pleasure, ill exchanged for power,' 

that has come within the benignant fascination of his 
smile, has felt the pressure of his hand, and tasted the 
sweets of his fireside eloquence, will think that the reso- 
lutions say too much ? 

'' No, fellow-citizens, we come together not to do honor 
to him, but to do justice to ourselves. We obey an im- 
pulse from within. Such a feeling can not be pent up in 
solitude. We must meet, neighbor with neighbor, citizen 
with citizen, man with man, to sympathize with each 
other. If we did not, mute nature would rebuke us. 
The granite hills of New Hampshire, within whose shad- 
ow he drew his first breath, would cry shame ; Plymouth 
Rock, which all but moved at his approach ; the slumber- 
ing echoes of this hall, which rung so grandly with his 
voice ; that ' silent but majestic orator,' which rose in no 
mean degree at his command on Bunker Hill — all, all 
would cry out at our degeneracy and ingratitude. 

" Mr. Chairman, I do not stand here to pronounce the 
eulogy of Mr. Webster ; it is not necessary. Eulogy has 
already performed her first offices to his memory. As the 
mournful tidings have flashed through the country, the 
highest oflices of nation and state, the most dignified of- 



192 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

ficial "bodies, the most prominent individuals, without dis- 
tinction of party, the press of the country, the great voice 
of the land, all have spoken, and with one accord of opinion 
and feeling ; and a unanimity that does honor at once to 
the object of this touching attestation, and to those who 
make it. The record of his life, from the humble roof 
beneath which he was born, with no inheritance but pov- 
erty and an honored name, up through the arduous paths 
of manhood, which he trod with lion heart and giant step, 
till they conducted him to the helm of state — ^this stirring 
narrative, not unfamiliar before, has, with melancholy 
promptitude, within the last three days, been again sent 
abroad throusfh the length and breadth of the land. It 
has spread from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. Strug- 
gling poverty has been cheered afresh ; honest ambition 
has been kindled ; patriotic resolve has heen invigorated ; 
while all have mourned. 3 8? 

" The poor boy at the village school has taken comfort 
as he has read that the time was when Daniel Webster, 
whose father told him that he should go to college if he 
had to sell every acre of his farm to pay the expense, laid 
his head on the shoulder of that fond and discerning par- 
ent, and wept the thanks he could not speak. The pale 
student, who ekes out his scanty support by extra toil, has 
gathered comfort when reminded that the first jurist, 
statesman, and orator of the time earned with his weary 
fingers, by the midnight lamp, the means of securing the 
same advantasjes of education to a beloved brother. Every 
true-hearted citizen throughout the Union has felt an hon- 
est pride, as he reperuses the narrative, in reflecting that 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 193 

he lives beneath a Constitution and a government under 
which such a man has been formed and trained, and that 
he himself is compatriot with him. He does more, sir ; 
he reflects with gratitude that, in consequence of what that 
man has done, and written, and said — in the result of his 
efforts to strengthen the pillars of the Union — a safer in- 
heritance of civil liberty, a stronger assurance that these 
blessings will endure, will descend to his children. 

" I know, Mr. Mayor, how presumptuous it would be to 
dwell on any personal causes of grief, in the presence of 
this august sorrow which spreads its dark wings over this 
land. You will not, however, be offended if, by way of 
apology for putting myself forward on this occasion, I say 
that my relations with Mr. "Webster run further back than 
those of almost any one in this community. They began 
the first year he '^ -me to live in Boston. When I was but 
ten or eleven yea^ )ld, I attended a little private school 
in Short Street (as it was then called ; it is now the con- 
tinuation of Kingston Street), kept by the late Hon. Eze- 
kiel Webster, the elder brother to whom I have alluded, 
and a brother worthy of his kindred. Owing to illness, 
or some other cause of absence on his part, the school was 
kept for a short time by Daniel Webster, then a student 
of law in Mr. G-ore's office ; and on this occasion, forty- 
seven or forty-eight years ago, and I a child often, our ac- 
quaintance, since then never interrupted, began. 

" When I entered public life, it was with his encourage- 
ment. In 1838, I acted, fellow-citizens, as your organ in 
the great ovation which you gave him in this hall. When 
he came to the Department of State in 1841, it was on his 

I 



194 P R I V A T E L I F E O F 

recommendation that I, living in the utmost privacy be- 
yond the Alps, was appointed to a very high office abroad ; 
and in the course of the last year, he gave me the highest 
proof of his confidence, in intrusting to me the care of con- 
ducting his v^orks through the press. May I venture, sir, 
to add, that in the last letter but one which I had the hap- 
piness to receive from him, alluding, with a kind of sad 
presentiment which I could not then fully appreciate, but 
which now unmans me, to these kindly relations of half 
a century, he adds, ' We now and then see, stretching 
across the heavens, a clear, blue, cerulean sky, without 
cloud, or mist, or haze. And such appears to me our ac- 
quaintance from the time when I heard you for a week 
recite your lessons in the little school-house in Short Street, 
to the date hereof,' twenty-first July, 1852. 

" Mr. Chairman, I do not dwell upon the traits of Mr. 
Webster's public character, however tempting the theme. 
Its bright developments in a long life of service are be- 
fore the world ; they are wrought into the annals of the 
country. Whoever in after times shall write the history 
of the United States for the last forty years, will write the 
life of Daniel Webster ; and whoever writes the life of 
Daniel Webster as it ought to be written, will write the 
history of the Union from the time he took a leading part 
in its concerns. I prefer to allude to those private traits 
which show the man, the kindness of his heart, the gen- 
erosity of his spirit, his freedom from all the bitterness of 
party, the unafi*ected gentleness oi his nature. In prepar- 
ing the new edition of his works, he thought proper to 
leave almost every thing to my discretion, as far as mat- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 195 

ters of taste are concerned. One thing only he enjomed 
upon me with an earnestness approaching to a command. 
* My friend,' said he, ' I wish to perpetuate no feuds. I 
have lived a life of strenuous political warfare. I have 
sometimes, though rarely, and that in self-defense, been 
led to speak of others with severity. I beg you, where 
you can do it without wholly changing the character of 
the speech, and thus doing essential injustice to me, to ob- 
literate every trace of personality of this kind. I should 
prefer not to leave a work that would give unnecessary 
pain to any honest man, however opposed to me.' 

'' But I need not tell you, fellow-citizens, that there is 
no one of our distinguished public men whose speeches 
contain less occasion for such an injunction. Mr. Web- 
ster habitually abstained from the use of the poisoned 
weapons of personal invective or party odium. No one 
could more studiously abstain from all attempts to make 
a political opponent personally hateful. If the character 
of our congressional discussions has of late years some- 
what declined in dignity, no portion of the blame lies at 
his door. With Mr. Calhoun, who for a considerable por- 
tion of the time was his chief antagonist, and with whom 
he was brought into most direct collision, he maintained 
friendly relations. He did full justice to his talents and 
character. You remember the feelings with which he 
spoke of him at the time of his decease. Mr. Calhoun, in 
his turn, entertained a just estimate of his great opponent's 
worth. He said toward the close of his life, that of all 
the leading men of the day, ' there was not one whose 
political course had been more strongly marked by a strict 
regard to truth and honor than Mr. Webster's.' 



196 PRIVATELIFEOF 

" One of the resolutions speaks of a permanent memorial 
to Mr. Webster. I do not know what is contemplated, but 
I trust that such a memorial there will be. I trust that 
marble and brass, in the hands of the most skillful artists 
our country has produced, will be put in requisition to re- 
produce to us — and nowhere so appropriately as in this 
hall — the lineaments of that noble form and beaming 
countenance on which we have so often gazed with de- 
light. But after all, fellow-citizens, the noblest monument 
must be found in his works. There he will live and speak 
to us and our children when brass and marble have crum- 
bled into dust. As a repository of political truth and prac- 
tical wisdom applied to the affairs of government, I know 
not where we shall find their equal. The works of Burke 
naturally suggest themselves to the mind as the only writ- 
ings in our language that can sustain the comparison. 
Certainly no composition in the English tongue can take 
precedence of those of Burke in depth of thought, reach 
of forecast, or magnificence of style. I think, however, it 
may be said , without partiality, either national or personal, 
that while the reader is cloyed at last with the gorgeous 
finish of Burke's diction, there is a severe simplicity and 
a significant plainness in Mr. Webster's writing that never 
tires. It is precisely this vv^hich characterizes the states- 
man in distinction from the political philosopher. In po- 
litical disquisition elaborated in the closet, the palm must, 
perhaps, be awarded to Burke over all others, ancient or 
modern. But in the actual conflicts of the Senate, man 
against man, and opinion against opinion ; in the noble 
war of debate, where measures are to be sustained and 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 197 

opposed, on which the welfare of the country and the peace 
of the world depend ; when often the line of intellectual 
battle is changed in a moment ; no time to reflect, no 
leisure to cull words or gather up illustrations, but all to 
be decided by^ a vote, although the reputation of a life may 
be at stake ; all this is a very different matter, and here 
Mr. Webster was immeasurably the superior. Accordingly, 
we find, historically (incredible as it sounds, and what I 
am ready to say I will not believe, though it is unqestion- 
ably true), that these inimitable orations of Burke, which 
one can not read without a thrill of admiration to his fin- 
gers' ends, actually emptied the benches of Parliament. 
Ah ! gentlemen, it was very different with our great par- 
liamentary orator. He not only chained to their seats 
willing, or, if there was such a thing, unwilling senators, 
but the largest hall was too small for his audience. On 
the memorable 7th of March, 1850, when he was expected 
to speak upon the great questions then pending before the 
country, not only was the Senate Chamber thronged to its 
utmost capacity at an early hour, but all the passages to it, 
the rotunda of the Capitol, and even the avenues of the 
city, were alive with the crowds who were desirous of gam- 
ing admittance. Another senator, not a political friend, 
was entitled to the floor. With equal good taste and good 
feeling, he stated that ' he was aware that the great mul- 
titude had not come together to hear him ; and he was 
pleased to yield the floor to the only man, as he believed, 
who could draw together such an assembly.' This senti- 
ment, the effusion of parliamentary courtesy, will, per- 
haps, be found no inadequate expression of what will final- 
ly be the judgment of posterity 



198 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

*' Among the many memorable words which fell from 
the lips of om- friend just before they were closed forever, 
the most remarkable are those which my friend Hilliard 
has just quoted : ' I still live I' They attest the serene 
composure of his mind, the Christian heroism with which 
he was able to turn his consciousness in upon itself, and 
explore, step by step, the dark passage (dark to us, but to 
him clearly lighted from above) which connects this world 
with the world to come. But I know not, Mr. Chairman, 
what words could have been better chosen to express his 
relation to the world he was leaving : ' I still live ! This 
poor dust is just returning to the dust from which it was 
taken ; but I feel that I live in the affections of the people 
to whose service I have consecrated my days. I still live ! 
The icy hand of Death is already laid on my heart, but I 
still live in those words of counsel which I have uttered 
to my fellow-citizens, and which I now leave them as the 
last bequest of a dying friend.' 

" Mr. Chairman, in the long and honored career of our 
lamented friend, there ai*e eftbrts and triumphs which will 
hereafter fill one of the brightest pages in our history. 
But I greatly err if the closing scene— the height of the 
religious sublime — does not, in the judgment of other 
days, far transcend in interest the brightest exploits of 
public life. Within that darkened chamber at Marshfield 
was witnessed a scene of which we shall not readily find 
the parallel. The serenity with which he stood in the 
presence of the King of Terrors, without trepidation or 
flutter, for hours and days of expectation ; the thought- 
fulness for the public business, when the sands were so 



TANIEL WEBSTER. 199 

nearly run out ; the hospitable care for the reception of 
the friends who came to Marshfield ; that affectionate and 
solemn leave separately taken, name by name, of wife, and 
children, and kindred, and friends, and family, down to 
the humblest members of the household ; the designation 
of the coming day, then near at hand, when 'all that was 
mortal of Daniel Webster would cease to exist !' the dimly 
recollected strains of the funeral poetry of G-ray, last faint 
flash of the soaring intellect ; the feebly murmured words 
of the Holy Writ repeated from the lips of the good phy- 
sician, who, when all the resources of human art had been 
exhausted, had a drop of spiritual balm for the parting 
soul ; the clasped hands ; the dying prayers : oh ! my fel- 
low-citizens, this is a consummation over which tears of 
pious sympathy will be shed ages after the glories of the 
forum and the Senate are forgotten. 

*' ' His sufferings ended with the night, 

Yet lived he at its close ; 
And wore the long, long night away 

In statue-like repose. 
Yet ere the sun in all its state 

Illumed the eastern skies, 
He passed through glory's morning gate, 

And walked in Paradise !' " 



I 



PRIVATE LIFE OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 201 



EULOG-Y IN NEW YORK. 

The following brief eulogy was delivered by Hiram 
Ketchum, Esq., in New York, and is here published for 
the same reasons that were offered in regard to Mr. Ever- 
ett's. It was addressed to the bar of the city : 

" The offices of this day belong less to grief and sorrow 
than congratulation and joy. It is true that our illustri- 
ous countryman, Daniel Webster, is no longer numbered 
among the living ; but it is a subject of congratulation 
that he lived beyond the ordinary period allotted to human 
life, and that he was permitted to die as he had lived, for 
thirty years in the service of his country ; and at his own 
home, in his own bed, surrounded by his domestic family 
and friends. The great luminary of the bar, the Senate, 
and the Council Chamber is set forever, but it is a subject 
of rejoicing that it is set in almost supernatural splendor, 
obscured by no cloud ; not a ray darkened. 

'' I have often heard Mr. Webster express a great dread, 
I may - dj horrible dread, of a failure of intellect. He 
did no live long enough to experience such failure. I 
rejoice that he lived long enough to collect, and supervise, 
and publish to the world his own works. Many of our 
distinguished countrymen live only in tradition ; but Dan- 
iel Webster has made up the record for himself ; a record 
which discloses, clear as light, his political, moral, and re- 

I 2 



202 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

ligious principles — a record containing 'no word which, 
dying, he might wish to blot,' or any friend of his desire 
to efface. More than any living man, he has instructed 
the whole generation of American citizens in their politi- 
cal duties, and taught the young men of the country how 
to think clearly, reason fairly, and clothe thought in the 
most simple and beautiful English. He has reared his 
own monument. ' There it stands, and there it will stand 
forever !' The rock which was first pressed by the feet 
of the Pilgrims first landing on the shores of this West- 
ern Continent is destined long to be remembered ; but not 
longer than the oration commemorating that event, de- 
livered two hundred years after it occurred, by Daniel 
Webster. 

" The monument which indicates the spot where the 
first great battle of the American Revolution was foaght 
will stand as long as monumental granite can stand ; but 
long after it is obliterated and scattered, the oration deliv- 
ered on laying its corner-stone, and the other oration, pro- 
nounced nineteen years after, on its completion, will live 
to tell that such a monument was. The names of John 
Adams and Thomas Jefferson will be known to a distant 
futurity ; but I believe that among the last records which 
will tell of their names will be the eulogy, of wh ?h they 
were the theme, pronounced by Daniel Webster. We all 
hope, and some of us believe, that the Constitution and 
Union of our country will be perpetual ; but we know that 
the speeches and orations in defense and commendation 
of that Constitution and Union delivered by Daniel Web- 
ster will live as long as the English language is spoken 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 20o 



among men. I might refer to the Capitol of the country, 
to ev^ry important institution, and every great name in 
our land among the living and the dead, for there is not 
one of them that has not heen embalmed in his eloquence 
" In the few remaining remarks which I have to make,'' 
continued Mr. Ketchum, " allow me, sir, to speak of some 
of the personal characteristics of Mr. Webster as they have 
fallen under my own observation. I have long been ac 
quainted with him. From all I know, have seen and 
heard, I am here to-day to bear testimony that Daniel 
Webster, as a public man, possessed the highest integrity. 
He always seemed to me to act under the present convic- 
tion that whatever he did would be known not only to his 
contemporaries, but to posterity. He was ' clear in office.' 
He regarded political power as power in trust; and though 
always willing and desirous to oblige his friends, yet he 
would never, directly or indirectly, violate that trust. I 
have known him in private and domestic life. During 
the last twenty-five years I have received many letters 
from him ; some of which I yet retain, and some have been 
destroyed at his request. I have had the pleasure of meet- 
ing him often in private circles and at the festive board, 
where some of our sessions were not short ; but neither in 
his letters nor his conversation have I ever known him to 
express an impure thought, an immoral sentiment, or use 
profane language. Neither in writing nor in conversation v 
have I ever known him to assail any man. No man, m 
my hearing, was ever slandered or spoken ill of by Daniel 
Webster. Never in my life have I known a man whose 
conversation was uniformly so unexceptionable in tone and 



204 PRIVATE LIFE OF 

edifying in cliaracter. No man ever had more tenderness 
of feeling than Daniel Webster. He had his enemies as 
malignant as any man ; but there was not one of them 
who, if he came to him in distress, would not obtain all 
the relief in his power to bestow. To say that he had no 
weaknesses and failings would be to say that he was not 
human. Those failings have been published to the world, 
and his friends would have no reason to complain of that 
if thev had not been exao^orerated. It is due to truth and 
sound morality to say, in this place, that no public services, 
no eminent talent, can or should sanctifv errors. It was 
one of Mr. Webster's characteristics that he abhorred all 
affectation. That affectation, often seen in young men, 
of speaking in public upon the impulse of the moment, 
without previous thought and preparation, of all others he 
most despised. He never spoke without previous thought 
and laborious preparation. As was truly said by my vener- 
able friend who just sat down (Mr. Staples), he was indus- 
trious to the end. "VVHien, on leaving college, he assumed 
the place of teacher in an academy, in an interior town of 
New England, the most intelligent predicted his future 
eminence. After his first speech in court, in his native 
state, a learned judge remarked, ' I have just heard a 
speech from a young man who will hereafter become the 
first man in the country.' The predictions that were made 
of Daniel AVebster's career were not merely that he would 
be a great man, but the first man. 

" I have often thought that if other men could have 
been as diligent and assiduous as Mr. Webster, they might 
have equaled him in achievement. AVhen he addressed 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 205 

the court, the bar, the Senate, or the people, he ever thought 
he had no right to speak without previous preparation. 
He came before the body to which he was to speak with 
his thoughts arrayed in their best dress. He thought this 
was due to men who would stand and hear him, and the 
result was that every thing he said was always worthy of 
being read ; and no public man in our country has ever 
been so much read. 

" It may be conceded (whether it was a virtue or a 
weakness) that Daniel Webster was ambitious. He was. 
He desired to attain high position, and to surpass every 
man who had occupied the same before him. He spared 
no labor or assiduity to accomplish this end. Whether he 
has succeeded or not, posterity must say. I will add, that 
it is true that he desired the highest political position in 
the country ; that he thought he had fairly earned a claim 
to that position. And I solemnly believe that because that 
claim was denied, his days were shortened. I came here, 
sir, to speak of facts as they are ; neither to censure or to 
applaud any man or set of men ; whether what has been 
done has been well done, or what has been omitted has 
been well omitted, the public must decide. May I be per- 
mitted to add that, though I am no man's worshiper, I 
have deeply sympathized in thought, in word, and in act 
with that desire of Mr. Webster ? I have continued this 
sympathy with that desire to the last moment of his life. 
If there be honor in this, let it attach to me and mine ; 
if disgrace, let it be visited upon me and my children." 

THE END. 



' f a ! r 






r ^ 



/V/ 



